


Healing and Redemption

by Sophia_inthesky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Draco Malfoy Redemption, F/M, Healing, Hogwarts, Loss, Malfoy Manor (Harry Potter), Marriage, Parenthood, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Redemption, Romance, Teen Pregnancy, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 64,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_inthesky/pseuds/Sophia_inthesky
Summary: The Golden Trio and Co are returning to Hogwarts for their final year in the wake of the Wizarding War. They have much healing to do before they break out into the world. Trauma and heartache has followed them, but together they believe they can overcome it all.Of- age, and narrowly avoiding a Ministry jail, sons and daughters of Death Eaters join them, in searchthe path to redemption.Will happen when two souls from either side of the terrible war are destined to collide with a desperate need for change?For many, the fighting is far from over.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley/Other(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	1. Platform 9 and 3/4

All was well. 

Well, all was quiet at least. Was quiet the right word? Four months had passed since the fateful day in 1998 where so many were lost in the final battle of a blood war that had lasted decades. It was a war that history saw fit to repeat over again since man and magic became one. In the respite after this war, with believers in a Pureblood cause only daring to whisper in shadows too dark to fathom, it would be agreed that it felt quite quiet indeed. 

Walking steadily through what appeared to the blissfully ignorant as a solid brick pillar, a bright young witch stepped out onto Platform 9 and 3/4. Hermione Granger shook her waist length curls out of the hood of her jacket, letting out a apprehension filled sigh as she took in the gleaming steam engine before her. She was just the tender age of eleven the first time she had laid eyes on the magnificent train, her young life making sense at last. Now nineteen years old in body and much older in mind, she was suddenly lost in reminiscence of all the adventures that had started here. How she had changed over those 7 years. Was she really going back? Could she really face entering the once hallowed halls that now held so much grief? She focused on releasing a shaky breath and tried to block out the memories threatening to overwhelm her.   
Hermione was jolted out of her trance by a body suddenly slamming into her back and knocking her forward, towards the shining tiled ground. Before her knees made contact she felt strong hands yank her up under her armpits so she was standing once more. 

“Sorry, sorry!” A voice stammered as she turned around to face her rescuer. Her own apology for being in the way of the magical gate faltered as her umber eyes, filled with fire, locked with eyes that were silver with ice and as deep as an ocean. The hand that was still resting on Hermione’s hip sprung away as if it had been burned and she watched it’s owner spin around and flee through the bustling crowd, until she saw the white-blonde head disappear through a door and onto the train. A year ago she might have felt disturbed by the contact, but now, standing there trying to slow her rapidly beating heart, it surprised her that she was filled with an overwhelming curiosity. Hermione raked her fingers once more through her wild curls, and stepped forward onto the train, ardently wishing for a year full of the absolute lack of adventure.

...................

Draco Malfoy would describe himself as many things. Prepared for where this journey was taking him was not one of those things. Reeling from his encounter on the platform with one third of the saviors of the wizarding world, he pulled his knees to his chest and let his head fall into his hands. He had secured the compartment at the very end of the near-empty train, with the hope that it would minimise the amount of young witches and wizards peering through the glass and finding the ex death eater returning one last time to the ancient castle where he had spent such a large portion of his youth.   
As he listened to the sound of chatter fill the carriage, Draco braced himself. Within minutes, he’d lost count of the curious eyes that quickly turned to glares, and tried to keep his gaze locked on the platform below him. He regretted this quickly, as people were still milling about there too. A tall, weathered looking man caught his eye as he hugged his son and daughter goodbye, both with the same flame red hair as their father, and both looking too battle weary to be returning to school. His stomach sank. He had hoped he would at least get to Hogwarts before he had to set eyes on the golden trio, and now he had seen two out of three before the train had even left the station.   
Draco couldn’t stop himself from lifting his eyes to the window again and taking in Arthur Weasley, and saw pain flashing across his face as he watched his two youngest children climb aboard and disappear from view.   
A sharp ache filled Draco’s chest as he recalled the last time Ginny Weasley had left for Hogwarts. Her brother Ron hadn’t returned with her at all that year, as he had joined Hermione Granger and the Boy Who Lived on their now-famous quest to the bring down the Dark Lord. Another one of her older brothers had been killed in the final battle, while the eldest had been ravaged and permanently mutilated by a werewolf. Draco was willing to bet Ginny Weasley was cursed and tortured more than all her brothers combined in that year, despite her Pureblood status. Maybe not more than Draco though. 

All was quiet for the moment. But for many young survivors who had aged far beyond their years in just a few months, all was not well. 

...............

Hermione was beginning to feel anxiety rising within her. She had agreed to meet her two closest friends aboard the train in the compartment that had been reserved for them. Though quite proud and a little embarrassed to accept special treatment for her part in Tom Riddle’s demise, she was grateful that they would be able to escape scrutiny and an endless stream of questioning from awe-struck children, at least for the few hours it would take to arrive at Hogwarts. However, the train had been on its way for twenty-three minutes now and there was still no sign of- 

“Hermione!”

As if by some protective reflex, Hermione jumped to her feet with her wand in the air before the door had fully opened. Quickly realising there was no danger, she leapt into her friends open arms and became engulfed in a mane of flame red hair.

“Ginny! How are you? Oh we’ve got so much to catch up on. And where on earth is your brother and Harry?” 

“Hermione, breathe!” Ginny laughed at her hysterical friend, and Hermione couldn't help notice that the sound wasn’t quite as musical as before the war. “Harry is just meeting with Kingsley in the ministry compartment, and Ron got caught up with Neville and Luna and the food trolley. Even after four months of home cooked meals he’s still hoarding food like he’s not going to eat for a week!”

Ginny linked arms with Hermione and sat her down on the plush seat. Hermione said nothing and leaned back with her eyes shut, a relieved smile breaking the tired expression on her face. Of course, she had known about Harry’s meeting with Kingsley. After the events of the previous year, the Ministry for Magic and what remained of the Order of the Phoenix were taking great care and interest in the returning students. There was much healing to be done. 

Still holding on to the safe embrace of her younger friend, Hermione’s eyes flicked open as the door slid open again, revealing Ronald Weasley, closely followed by Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. She stood and held Ron close to her, breathing in his familiar scent. It had only been three weeks since she had seen him but, after almost a year of living together in a tent, it had felt like a lifetime. He squeezed her waist affectionately with one arm and cradled his giant bag of sweets in the other, whispering “I got you a sugar quill” in her ear. She drew back and let out a giggle, a truly happy sound that was she hadn't made in a long while. She looked around at the smiling faces of Neville and Luna, noticing the tight grip the pair had on each other’s hands. 

“I’ve missed you all so much," Hermione started, and tears threatened to overflow. 

Luna reached up and touched her face. 

“Oh Hermione. I’m happy to see you here too. But don’t let those tears fall, the Blibbering Humdingers are out in hoards” she smiled gently. 

With that the group that was so battle weary and tired erupted with laughter, and basked in the lightness of the moment. 

The door slid open a third time and in walked a tall, slim young man with round glasses, black hair that stuck out in all directions, and a lightening bolt scar that seemed slightly less severe than the last time Hermione had seen him. He barely took one step inside before he was enveloped in a hug that came from four directions. 

Hermione had sat back and let out a breath that she didn’t know she had been holding for three weeks. Her umber eyes locked with the brilliant green ones that peered out from the pile of teenagers before her. He smiled a warm smile at her. They didn’t need words. They were all together and safe once more. 

When his friends relinquished their hold on him, Harry Potter sat next to Hermione, pulling Ginny down beside him. 

"How did the meeting with Kingsley go?" asked Ron, sitting on the window seat opposite Hermione.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, a renowned member of the Order of the Phoenix, had been elected Minister for Magic following the war. He was taking priority in the rebuilding of Hogwarts, and the rehabilitation of many young witches and wizards, students and otherwise, that had fought in the Final Battle. 

"He wanted to discuss the Healing Program that will be added to the curriculum. It wont be compulsory but all students in every year will have three free periods a week to attend, apart from new first years who weren't there last year, and five per week for 6th and 7th years." Harry took a breath and looked at his closest companions. "He said it will be compulsory though for students coming back from the other side."

"You mean like Malfoy?" Ron grumbled. 

"Draco," Luna corrected him in a dreamy voice, gazing out the window. 

Neville squeezed her hand lightly, patted her on the knee. He shook his head slightly at the others raised eyebrows at their strange friend. 

"I know its our last chance, but do you think, finally, that we'll just have a normal year at Hogwarts?" Ron asked the compartment.

Five voiced replied, "No."

.............

Hours later, when the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, Draco had fallen into a fitful sleep full of ashen faces, showers of green and a cold, high laugh...

“Draco?” 

A soft familiar voice woke him with a start and he jerked back in his seat, wand in the air in the dark compartment. He hadn’t heard the door slide open. 

“Draco, stop, it’s okay! It’s Pansy!” 

Draco squinted to make out the face of the girl he’d spent so much of his youth with. Pansy was crouched in front of him, palms froward in surrender and dangerously close to the tip of his wand. He lowered the wand and released the grip he had on the window ledge, taking a deep breath.  
Pansy glanced at the boy sadly as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, taking in his drawn face and unkempt hair, flicking on the lights with her wand as she did so. 

Draco registered the sudden light behind his eye lids and heard Pansy pad quietly to the seat opposite him and sit down. He knew she and a few other students were returning to Hogwarts on the same conditions he was, but he had still hoped he would make the journey without encountering his fellow Slytherins. 

“Draco...” 

He opened his eyes slowly against the light and met her dull hazel ones. Weren’t they usually brighter than that? He shook his head and sat up straight, looking her up and down as he did so. Their parents had once intended them to join their ancient houses, but the two had developed a more sibling like bond, with nothing more than a few shy kisses and familiar hugs passing between them. He cared more for her than he did for most.

Draco now noticed the stain on her robes, stuck with Berty Bots Every Flavour Beans, and the clear absence of Slytherin Green. 

“What happened to your robes?” He asked her. 

“I was grabbing a drink from the lunch trolly and someone shoved me and, well..” She gestured the mess on her clothes and sighed then let out a humourless laugh. “I can’t say I blame them. I just thought I best come and find you, I thought you’d be having a tough time too. I didn’t even think to clean myself! And honestly, I think it's best we distance ourselves from Slytherin green until we've settled back at Hogwarts, don't you? I find myself lacking house pride these days anyway."

“Scourgify” Draco waved his wand over her and watched as the mess on her robes evaporated. “What are we doing here Pansy?” He asked her, shaking his head as she subtly removed the green colour from the trim of his own robes with a quick flick of her wand. 

“Well as of-age children of incarcerated Death Eaters, our sentence doesn’t seem too bad,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I’ll take being a prisoner of the Order at Hogwarts over some ministry dungeon any day of the week! At least we’ll have space to breathe, and, well..”  
She took in his expression and said lowly, “..hide... if we need to. And heal.”

Draco ran his hands through his tousled hair and gave a small nod. He knew many of the young witches and wizards returning from the last battle were returning for some form of rehabilitation and closure. He didn’t think that option applied to him. Who was going to let him forget what he had done? 

.........................

Hermione was full of anticipation as she hopped off the train at Hogsmeade Station, keeping a firm hold of Harry and Ron’s hands as she did so. She felt like she would never let go of them again. Looking around above the heads of the other students she saw a shaggy black mane looming several feet over the rest. 

“Hagrid!” Harry shouted. 

That giant of a man swung around, and spotted them in the crowd. He all but flattened the much smaller students as he bounded over to them, taking all three into a bone-crushing embrace. 

“I been waitin’ for you three,” he said, his beetle like eyes gleaming with tears as he peered down at them, setting them down and checking them over. “Yer lookin’ fit, Harry, Ron. An’ you Hermione.” 

The three of them could see the pride bursting from him. He didn't quite view them as his own children, but something very similar to that kinship.

“Righ-e-o” Hagrid said after a few more moments. “Best be off an’ gather them first years. There be twice as many this year!” And he bustled off booming “First years, this way please!” 

Hermione looked at her companions and pulled them out of their reverie, knowing they were thinking the same as her. How innocent and young they were, the first time they’d followed Hagrid off this very platform and to the boats to sail across the Black Lake, and seeing the great castle for the first time. How full of awe she had been, knowing she was finally going to find her place in the world. She wordlessly guided them to the carriages, maintaining a firm grip on them both. They came to a halt as they all took in the sight before them, Ginny, Neville and Luna just behind. 

It was far from the first time they’d seen the Thestrals, but tonight they seemed to emanate darkness, as if the aura of death hadn’t yet left the air around them. Many others who had never seen them before were stood stock still, staring at the skeletal horses with their own dark memories of fallen friends flooding through their minds. 

Luna stepped forward and took Harry’s hand in hers, and lead him into the carriage, and the others followed close behind. 

“Did you see that?” Ron’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “It’s like they were glowing, but with darkness. All I could think of when I looked at them was Fred’s face.. and Lavender...” He trailed off and the same images flashed through the others minds.   
Fred lying on the floor of the great hall, his mother weeping over his lifeless body. Lavender lying still on the stairs in the entrance hall after Hermione had blasted Fenrir Greyback away from her body, moments too late. 

Ginny looked out of the carriage with tears streaming down her worn face. 

“Look, there's Malfoy. And Parkinson.” She murmured. 

The group followed her gaze to the pair trying to navigate through hard looks coming at them from all angles. They were attempting to get passed group of 7th year Hufflepuff boys who had blocked their path, seeming to be intent on confrontation. 

Hermione heard Harry let out a sigh and watched as he hopped down from the carriage. Students parted like the Red Sea as they stared at the Chosen One made his way to the group blocking Draco and Pansy’s way to the carriages. 

“You’ve got some nerve..”

“Ernie.” Harry interrupted the boy in front of him with a tired note in his voice. He hadn’t even got to the castle and the fighting had begun. “You know as well as I do they didn’t have a choice in the war, or about coming back here. Come on mate, let’s not start the year like this.” 

Ernie MacMillan looked at him open mouthed for a moment then with a curt nod to Harry and one last glare at the Slytherins, he turned on his heel and hopped into the nearest carriage, his friends and comrades following behind. 

Harry finally turned to Draco, whose face had drained of colour upon seeing his old school rival. Draco couldn’t bring himself to speak. What could he say? Sorry? Thank you? After everything they had been through they seemed like empty words. 

Pansy kept her eyes low as she muttered a quiet “thanks” to Harry and pulled Draco to the carriage, shuddering as she tried not to look at the Thestrals in front of her. 

Harry stepped back into his carriage where his friends waited, and felt it jolt forward. He seemed deep in thought. 

“That was good of you Harry,” Hermione murmured. 

Ron nodded in agreement. 

“I don’t know how it'll be, to be around him and the others, but we can’t pretend he believes in all that stuff. At least not anymore,” Neville said. “He’s not his father,” he added solemnly. 

“He helped me you know,” Luna said in her airy voice. 

Five pairs of eyes looked at her. She had spoken very little of the period of time that she was kept captive at Malfoy Manor. Neville looked pained at the thought of what she had gone through, and squeezed her hand tighter. 

Harry and Ron were thinking back to the night they had found her there, so full of relief they had found her alive and not daring to dwell on the horrors she had faced. Hermione hadn't seen the girl until later, after they were out of harms way. While Harry and Ron had been dragged away to the dungeons, she had been incapacitated and tortured in the hall above.

“How did he help you, Luna?” Ginny urged her on gently. 

“He brought me food and water when he could, not much but it kept us alive. Mr Olivander was so old and frail, he helped me care for him, clean his wounds.” 

The others stayed quiet, silently waiting for her to carry on. Though they all knew Malfoy had little choice in the side he was on in the war, none of them could picture him risking the wrath of the Death Eaters or Voldemort just to keep a young girl and an old man alive. 

Lost in her reverie, Luna continued. 

“He came and healed me sometimes, only small amounts in case the others noticed. He got caught over again by his aunt and uncle sneaking down with food, but he always came back. He never let me heal him though, no matter how bad his punishment had been. The guilt was drowning him, even then.”

She trailed off then, lost in thoughts of Draco’s pale face covered in cuts and bruises, or his white blonde hair stuck with blood all over. 

Hermione made a decision at that moment. Turning to the others, she said “we have to lead, now more than ever. I know you’re all tired. Merlin knows I am too. But we can’t just flip old prejudices on their head and let them suffer instead. It’s hard enough for the Slytherins that are coming back that they’re imprisoned here for the next three years. We don’t have to be Malfoy’s friend, but he went through as much as we did, maybe more than some. He wasn’t fighting for their side, he was fighting for his life. We have to show everyone that there can’t be any more sides.”

The group stared at her for a moment after her speech then began to nod in agreement, Ron somewhat reluctantly. 

“He’s still a git though” he muttered, as they neared the castle gates. 

Hermione nodded, staring out into the night, trying to shake the icy feeling that lingered on her hip where a strong hand had grasped her so briefly. 

.............

Draco let Pansy pull him through the entrance hall and into the Great Hall where the feast was waiting. They were early still so only a few students were able to shoot daggers with their eyes as they sat down. He didn’t think his feet would have moved if she hadn’t have been propelling him forward. 

Quickly the tables filled with students. He kept his eyes down and tried to ignore the whispers around him. 

The sorting took longer than usual, as the first years of this year were joined by all the muggleborns who could not attend the year before, when the school was overrun by death eaters. 

“Welcome students, to another year at Hogwarts”

Draco looked up to Professor McGonagall’s voice ringing throughout the hall. He felt another pang in his stomach as he took in her gaunt frame, remembering it was her idea that children of Death Eaters that had become of age the year before should be given an opportunity to renounce the old ways and return to Hogwarts to finish their schooling, and eventually work in the castle, instead of carrying out their detentions in the Ministry prison. 

“Before we begin the banquet, I would like to say a few words. Firstly I would like to welcome Professor Sturgis Podmore of the Order of the Phoenix, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. On that note, some of you will have noticed many Order members and Ministry officials on the Hogwarts Express. The two institutions will maintain a presence in the school for the foreseeable future as we rebuild what has been lost in the last year. You will all notice a change in the curriculum when you receive your timetables tomorrow. This will include a class, Medi-charms, which has previously only been available at N.E.W.T level. you will also notice that each and every one of you will have the opportunities to work individually with a Healer of the mind from St Mungo's, should the need arise. You will be able to schedule appointments from tomorrow morning.” 

The hall was silent now as McGonagall made reference to the battle, students of all ages paling at the thought of reliving a moment of their experiences the previous year with a stranger. Many suddenly felt heavy with the loss of fellow students who should have been sat beside them. 

“There will also be some allowances for current and returning 7th years, as so many of you bravely stood together only months ago to protect your fellow students and our hallowed halls.” She paused again and took a breath before continuing. “We do acknowledge the extreme trauma that has physically and mentally been suffered by so many of you. The staff at Hogwarts and those from the Order of the Phoenix and Ministry for Magic would like to express our gratitude to all of you marvelous young witches and wizards.” 

The hall broke into cheers and applause, as the older students did their best to muster smiles as their cheeks reddened. 

Draco sunk further into his seat, wishing he could disappear under the table. 

As the applause died down, McGonagall tapped her glass again. 

“One last thing before we commence our feast. Before you retire to your common rooms would all current and returning 7th years, from all houses,” she glanced at the much emptier Slytherin table, “join me in the chamber off of the great hall. Now, as a great wizard once said ‘Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment and Tweak!”

The hall erupted into laughter and cheers once more as Headmistress McGonagall sat down and the feast appeared before them. Only the returning handful of 7th years sat in silence, having been transported by four strange words back to their own sorting all those years ago.


	2. House Unity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione noticed that all of the four older Slytherins had barely touched their plates. They looked like they could just disappear into the floor. She thought about who had been taking care of them. Most of their parents had been imprisoned, at the Ministry, or killed during or leading up to the Battle. Pansy Parkinson looked like a shadow of the girl she had known in the years before. Her long ebony tresses lacked the shine they once had and her face was pale and drawn. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini both had the same sunken eyes as she did. And Malfoy...

By the end of the feast, the students were almost too full to move. Most of them anyway. Draco moved his fork around his plate, barely listening to the conversation happening beside him. He was thinking back to the trials two months before where he and his other returning companions had to prove that they had honestly defected from the Dark Lords cause. It had been drawn out over three weeks, and the process hadn't been without pain. Registered Ministry Legillimens had prodded the darkest corners of his mind, and he had lost count of the vials of verituserum that he had had to swallow. He cleared his throat as he felt the slight burn on his tongue that the potion had left. 

There were plenty of young students returning this year, but they were the only house with less than the normal amount of first years. Muggleborns didn’t get sorted into Slytherin house, so they didn’t have a lack of new students the year before. The older the students, the less there were in the groups. In the group of 7th years, now combined with those who had been in Draco's year and the year below, there was an obvious lack of students. In Ravenclaw, there were 8 out of the usual 20. Hufflepuff had 9 and Gryffindor had 11. Many had decided to make their way into the world instead of finishing the last year of schooling. Out of the Slytherins, only four 7th years, old and new, had returned. Some of the missing had been killed in the final battle, regardless of the side they were fighting for. Some were in hiding with their Death Eater parents, or in hiding with their parents from Death Eaters for changing sides at the end. And some that had been captured had refused to renounce the Pureblood ideals that had caused so much grief, and chosen a prison sentence over returning to Hogwarts. 

Draco shook himself from his thoughts and tuned in to the discussion Pansy was having with Theo and Blaise.

"Of course I know we're going to be scrutinized, but i don't understand the daily appointments with the mind Healer, we're already meeting with McGonagall once a week," she was saying. 

"Maybe it's so they can keep better tabs on us," Blaise responded. "Make sure we're making progress and not going back to the Death Eater ways." 

"Hmph," Pansy snorted. "Didn't they get all they needed to know from the trials? Did i go through three weeks of reliving my hell of an upbringing for nothing then?"

Theo interjected, "Maybe it's more because of our hell of an upbringing. I think they're really giving us a chance here. I can't say i wasn't made to do terrible things Pansy, we all were. But we've been through as much grief as anyone else here. Maybe more than most."

Blaise nodded in agreement. 

"I don't know much about mind healing," he said, "but i'm willing to give whatever they want us to do a go if it means truly putting it all behind us. What about you Draco?"

Draco looked at his friends solemnly, no longer the boy so full of confidence that he could face any confrontation or be anything he wanted.

"Do you really think we can?"

.................

Looking at the returned few around the hall, Hermione noticed that all of the four older Slytherins had barely touched their plates. They all wore the same expression of apprehension as they engaged in a hushed discussion, and she wondered if they were questioning whether coming back to the castle had been the right decision. They looked like they could just disappear into the floor. She thought about who had been taking care of them. Most of their parents had been imprisoned at the Ministry, or killed during or leading up to the Battle. Pansy Parkinson looked like a shadow of the girl she had known in the years before, and much more thinner. Her long ebony tresses lacked the shine they once had and her face was pale and drawn. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini both had the same sunken eyes, flitting about as if ready for an attack. And Malfoy... 

“Hermione, are you ready?” Neville’s voice shook her out of her pondering and she realized her friends were all standing and waiting for her. 

“Sorry I was miles away!” She did her best to smile as she rose from her seat. She let Luna take her hand as they made their way into the chamber beside the Great Hall along with the rest of the 7th years. In the corner of her eye she saw the small group of older Slytherins sidle in after them, staying as close to the door as they could without being on top of each other. 

“Come in, come in,” The Headmistress ushered them inside. “Welcome back, all of you. It’s an honour to have you return to this castle, after the sacrifices each and every one of you have made in the last year.” 

There were pointed glances around the room as she spoke, and more than a few glares in the Slytherins direction. Hermione saw them shift uncomfortably. All except for Malfoy, whose gaze remained firmly glued to his feet. 

Taking in the tension in the air, McGonagall continued. 

“Now, I know some things are hard for you at the moment. The loss has been great and in your recovery you will face many challenges. As all or most of you will have heard, the Ministry, Order and Hogwarts board has made the decision to house certain returning of-age students whose families were actively followers of Voldemort”, she could not suppress a shudder, “and who are being held here under a three year detention rather than carrying out a sentence in the Ministry prison.” 

There were a few muttered protests. Each of the Slytherin students had family members that had caused the death of a number of loved ones of other students in the room. More than one of four had caused much pain themselves. 

“Now students. Each of those joining this program contributed greatly leading up to the final battle, allowing good to triumph once again. This leads to my next point. All of you have done the Wizarding World a tremendous service and as there are so few of you, and the added first years in your house common rooms, you will have access to your own common room..”

At this, the room erupted in excited chatter. Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, seeing the relief spreading on their faces. 

“Hey you know what that means!” Ron whispered. 

“Privacy, not having to answer a million questions or being stared at all day,” Harry smiled a happy smile. 

“Quiet, quiet!” Everyone hushed and hoped for more exciting news. “Dormitories will be 4 to a room, each with their own bathroom. And to make sure you understand, it will be all 7th years from all houses. We are moving forward with a show of house unity, putting this blood war behind us!” 

The crowd of young adults collectively agreed and nodded to one another, until a voice from the middle of the room shouted “are you kidding?!”

They all looked to the disgruntled Hufflepuff Ernie Macmillan. 

“You expect us to share living quarters with those.. those Death Eaters?” There were a few murmurs of agreement. 

Draco and his Slytherin companions seemed to shrink into the wall as a group of stricken faces and angry glares turned on them. 

“Headmistress, we don’t.. I mean we could stay elsewhere...” Pansy started before she was drowned out by other cries of protests. 

“ENOUGH!” 

Hermione had marched up to where McGonagall was stood, dragging Harry and Ron with her. Ginny, Luna and Neville followed close behind, flanking their friends in a show of solidarity, though not entirely sure what Hermione had planned. McGonagall stared at the group for a moment before nodding and stepping back. 

“Haven’t you had enough of fighting? I know we have,” Hermione gestured to her closest friends around her. “As little more than a child I, like many others here, was persecuted for not coming from the right family. For not having the right blood. And most of you here fought against that prejudice that went back Millennia! I won’t tell you that you should forget. It should be etched in memory long after we’re gone, so that history should never see fit to repeat it.” 

The room was silent as they stared at the witch in front of them. Hermione’s bright eyes searched the back of the room until they found silver ones and held their gaze as she took a shaky breath. 

“While Harry, Ron and I were searching for the Horcruxes to bring down Voldemort, we were apprehended by Snatchers and imprisoned in Malfoy Manor.” Gasps and murmurs escapes the crowd. There was very little information of the golden Trio’s journey over the last year.   
“At the time, it was the primary headquarters for the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. When we arrived, I was tortured, under the cruciatus curse, by Bellatrix Lestrange trying retrieve information on Harry’s whereabouts. Her nephew, Draco Malfoy, had recognised us straight away obviously. And he had to watch as that mad woman carved ‘Mudblood’ into my skin.” 

Hermione pulled up her sleeve, never once breaking eye contact with the young wizard as he stared back with a stricken expression. Why was she doing this? Was this some sort of sick payback? He shook his head, silently begging her to stop.

She continued, “He could have spoken up right then. He could have said, ‘Harry Potter is here, right now!’ He could have ended the war as we knew it and we never would have seen the light again in this world. He also faced his own torture repeatedly at the hands of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself for defying them in the attempt to keep other prisoners alive.” 

Harry stepped forward then. 

“Draco Malfoy, and many other Slytherin students and even some ex Death Eaters played a great role in Tom Riddle’s downfall”, he said. “Even at the very end, in front of Voldemort himself, Narcissa Malfoy covered the fact that I was still alive and gave me the opportunity to bring him down once and for all." He gestured to his friends beside him. "We are ready to move forward in this new world, and we aren’t going to leave anyone behind.” 

Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder and grasped Hermione’s hand in his as, once more, the room erupted with applause. 

Draco watched the scene in front of him, vaguely noticing Pansy quietly sobbing beside him. Even Theo and Blaise seemed overwhelmed by the Golden Trios speech, gratitude and grief filling them. He still couldn’t break away from those eyes so full of fire, his hand still burning from the split second contact hours before. The memory of her screaming and writhing in pain on the floor of his manor was filling the back of his mind. How could they ever move away from that? He found that he felt sudden desperation to try, to earn her forgiveness.

“Okay if we are all in agreement," said McGonagall in a tone that told them it was absolutely not up for debate, "I think it is best you all went to bed! You will find your common room and dormitories in the North tower on the 7th floor behind the painting of Barnabus the Barmy. Your password is ‘unity’.” 

Hermione, Harry and Ron followed the rest of the students out of the small chamber to their new living quarters. Hermione kept her eyes low as she brushed passed Draco, and tried to ignore the icy shock that jolted through her as her fingers grazed his.

..............

After a long trudge to the North Tower, the students started filing through the portrait hole behind Barnabus the Barmy. Almost the last ones down the 7th floor corridor, Hermione glanced behind her to see that Draco was stood rooted to the spot in the middle of the walkway, staring blankly at what seemed to be a bare wall. Being privy to more than a few of Hogwarts'secrets, Hermione knew better. She looked at Harry and Ron waiting for her at the end of the corridor and subtly tilted her head in Draco’s direction. His friends were nervously watching also, a few steps behind. As the last of the students disappeared ahead of them, a door appeared in front of the boy, and as if breaking out of some enchantment he jerked back until he hit the wall opposite, sliding down to the floor with his head in his hands. A strangled sob emerged from behind them. 

The three Gryffindors and three Slytherins took in the scene before them, not daring to move. 

“Draco.” 

A soft, almost lyrical voice spoke the boys name and Hermione saw a head of ash blonde hair brush passed her. 

Luna knelt gently in front of Draco and took both of his hands in hers, pulling them away from his face. Hermione looked around and saw Neville beside her, his face solemn. 

“Draco look at me.” She lifted his chin so their eyes met. “It’s not there anymore. You don’t have to hide in there any more.” 

Harry caught Hermione’s eye as they both understood what Draco had been thinking as he had walked passed the entry way to the Room of Requirement. A desperate wish to disappear and be hidden.

Moments later, Hermione felt Ron beside her. He cleared his throat. 

“Um.. I’ve checked the common room, it looks like everyone’s gone to their dormitories if you want to come in now..” he trailed off, unsure. He was about as comfortable as sharing living space with the children of Death Eaters as Ernie and his friends. He was all for house unity and understood the need to put their differences aside, but he did wish they could do it from a distance. 

Luna pulled Draco to his feet and guided him silently passed the group, none of whom knew what to say. A few seconds later they followed them through the portrait hole. 

The pair had disappeared into a dormitory and the rest sat down on the plush couches around the lit fire place, Gryffindors and Slytherins keeping a slight distance. As if all wondering the same thing, they all looked questioningly at Neville. He nodded and stood, walking closer to the fire. 

“They’ll just be talking up there. Well, Luna is probably doing all the talking. She was writing to him over the summer. They’re connected, somehow.” He turned around and smiled sadly.   
“It’s like she can feel he pain in him, even when they’re apart. More than once over the last couple of months she just stopped what she was doing and apparated to him without explanation. Scared the hell of me the first time she came back and told me where she'd gone. and it goes the other way too. I know we're all suffering and grieving, but some of the things they did to her there... some things only people like Draco understand. ”

“I understand.”

They all turned around to look at Pansy Parkinson, sat quietly away from the rest of them. 

“How could you understand Pansy?” Ginny said, not unkindly. “Your parents were.. well they were close to, to him, weren’t they? How could you understand the torture that some people went through? I can't remember them ever targeting you when they took over the school.” 

Pansy let out a laugh that was devoid of any humour or joy. 

“Please. You think any of us were safe? Or cared for? I grew up surrounded by Death Eaters. They didn't just appear from thin air when He returned, they were always there. Most of them didn't even care to follow him, as long as he paved the way for their own disgusting tendencies. We were safe from our own parents maybe, even then most weren't. Do you think the Dark Lord cared for our welfare when he felt the urge to torture someone? Or when his Death Eaters were restless for a bit of fun? Better the young ones, already present and available, who would be minimal help in the war to come. The sight and sound of pain and despair were a drug to him. It didn’t matter to him who was being tortured or raped or murdered. ” She faltered, noticing the rise in her voice. “Never mind. Who am I but the daughter of a Death Eater?” 

She stood abruptly and fled to her room, knowing that at some point Hermione, Ginny and Luna would have to join her. 

The group sat in silence a few minutes more, the Gryffindors stealing glances at Theodore and Blaise, registering their hollow faces and sallow skin. As she looked, Hermione noticed a thick red scar peeking out of the neck of Theodores shirt that reminded her somehow of Remus Lupin, or Bill Weasley. How had they missed it? Harry broke the spell and gestured to the young men. 

“You two are living in with Seamus and Dean I think. So that leaves,” he sighed as his eyes flickered to Ron. “That leaves Malfoy in with us.” 

Ron groaned and slumped back in his chair. 

“Great.” He murmured. “I don’t know how they think this is going to work. I know he’s different, I’m sure you all are or you wouldn’t have passed the trial to come back here.” He spoke to the Slytherin boys. “But this is going to be something else.”

They all nodded in agreement. Just then, Luna appeared at the top of the stairs, Neville jumping up to meet her. They stood for a moment seeming to drink in each others presence, before coming to sit down with the rest. 

“He’s asleep,” said Luna. “The poor boy has been through so much...” 

After everyone waited expectantly, it was apparent she wasn’t going to continue. 

“I really think it’s time we all got some rest,” said Hermione warily, glancing at her watch. 

They nodded and stood, and without another word all padded off to their own sleeping quarters. 

............

Hours later, Hermione woke from a fitful sleep. The first light of day was beginning to send a glow through the windows. Looking over at the drawn curtains of the bed beside hers, she could sense Pansy’s wakefulness too. The girls’ words in the common room the night before swirled in Hermione’s mind. Had Pansy and other young people like her really been through as much as that? She knew from the trials after the Battle that Voldemort had a particular interest in treating Draco and his family exceptionally cruelly, and encouraged others to do the same, but other than that not many details were divulged to the audience. Had she really assumed that more of his followers hadn’t been treated the same? No, she thought. It had never even crossed her mind. 

With another look at the rising light from the window, she realised it was fruitless to attempt to go back to sleep. With a sigh, she pulled on a robe and tread softly out of the dorm to the common room. 

..............

Draco stared into the flames of the fire place in his new common room. He pulled his knees to his chest as a hundred memories raced through his mind. Isolated in a room with mountains of hidden things, holding a tiny dead bird in his hand while he wept in front of a broken cabinet, a cold, high laugh, and then deep umber eyes begging for the pain to stop and swirls of auburn threatening to swallow him whole. 

Draco started and jump to his feet as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs to his left. Upon seeing him stood there, Hermione was startled and stumbled on the last step. Hands outstretched, she braced herself to collide with the stone floor. 

Draco lurched forward and messily flung an arm around her waist and took most of the force of the fall as they painfully hit the ground. Almost with his back to the floor and propping himself up uncomfortably on his elbow, Draco looked up into the fiery pools that had been stuck in his mind for the last day. The eyes widened as he searched her face, noting the pink tinge rising in her milky skin and the full lips parting slightly. 

Realising he still had Hermione clamped firmly to his chest, he jerked his arm away and they both scuttled backwards on the floor until she hit the side of the couch and he hit the cold wall. After a moment of awkward silence Hermione raised her eyes to the boy in front of her. No, not a boy. A young man aged beyond his years after bearing witness to unspeakable acts. 

“I’m sorry”, Draco spoke quietly and kept his eyes firmly on the ground. He felt guilty for even daring to physically touch her, that it was he whose blood was unclean.

“What are you sorry for? That’s the second time you’ve saved me from a concussion in two days.” Hermione replied softly.

“Saved you..” he scoffed looking tormented by a memory. “I should have saved you.” 

He stood as straight as a pole and marched away from her and out of the portrait hole without another word. 

As the portrait swung closed and Draco’s white hair disappeared from view, Hermione couldn’t shake the words from her mind. I should have saved you.

You did, she thought.


	3. The Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she pressed the tip of my wand to her wrist, and then to mine. I don’t know what spell she used, she did it without saying a word. Immediately I felt new feelings that weren’t my own flood through me and she told me what she’d done. She told me we would survive this, if not in body then in spirit. But she truly believed, after all the things they did to her, that she would leave there alive. I could feel it.

The Bond

Draco sat beneath the Slytherin stand on the quidditch pitch. How many hours had passed since he had ran away from Hermione in the common room? Breathing in the cool September air he looked about him and noticed the fading light. He had managed to avoid coming across any other living soul the entire day. He knew Pansy, Blaise and Theo would be worried about him but he couldn’t bare seeing their faces so full of sorrow and angst, knowing they only mirrored his own. Why was his guilt afflicting him so? He was no more responsible than they for the atrocities the Death Eaters had performed, and that went for his parents and theirs too. He shook his head. Both Blaise and Theo had lost their parents, and Pansy's father had killed her mother for defecting. He now sat in a dungeon with Draco's own father. Draco's mother however had been pardoned at the request of Harry Potter, and she now resided in solitude in the house she had inherited from the Black dynasty.

He thought of his home, though it had often been cold and unwelcoming in his youth, that had been completely taken over by the mad man that wanted to tear the world apart, and had then been repossessed by the Ministry to be stripped apart for evidence of remaining Death Eaters. He thought of the countless prisoners that had been dragged over and over through that home, most of whom were never seen by their loved ones again. He remembered again that the only time anyone had gotten out alive was when Potter had been brought there. The Golden Trio. What a fateful night. A scream ripped through his mind as he dropped his head in his hands, knees trembling.

The scream didn’t stop. It started as Hermione’s scream from when his insane aunt was carving that despicable word into her skin. It merged into the countless screams of countless victims as one by one they were tortured and abused and ultimately murdered. It finally turned into the soft cries of an ash blonde girl as she was visited again and again by depraved men, for whom curses weren’t enough.

“Malfoy?”

In the rafters below him Draco recognised Neville, and hopped down from his perch to meet him.

“Longbottom.” Draco nodded at him, not meeting his eyes. He still felt quite awkward at his close relationship with Luna, especially when talking to Luna's boyfriend. Draco and Neville had never been friends, after all.

Neville sat down opposite him.

“Pansy, Nott and Zabini have been looking for you. They said they hadn’t seen you since last night and were worried you’d run away or... or something else..” Neville glanced at Draco. “Luna told them you were okay, and still on the grounds. She told me where you were and to come and see you so they wouldn’t follow her here.”

Draco looked up then. Before him was no longer the awkward, chubby boy who could have been mistaken for a squib. He was easily the same height as Draco, and just as lean. His skin had a pleasant olive tone and his hair sat in a wavy chocolate mop atop his head. He looked every bit as battle weary as any other wizard to go up against the Dark Lord. He remembered suddenly what his father had told him, after failing to retrieve the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries in his fifth year. He had said that when he recalled what it had said as it shattered in front of him that he immediately thought not of the Potters, but the Longbottoms.

He could see questions in Nevilles eyes. He sighed and stood again, pacing in the small amount of space he had.

“I told her not to do it you know,” he said, his voice laden with regret.

“I don’t really know what she did...” Neville looked at him with curiosity. “I know the two of you are connected by some magic, somehow, and she always seems to know when you need her and where you are. She’s told me a lot of what appened at your... at the manor. But not that.”

Still pacing, Draco ran a rough hand through his locks.

“She didn’t know, neither of us knew, if we were getting out of there alive," he said exasperatedly, as if he needed to justify the act. "Every day, she was being... well, you know what happened to her there.”

Neville’s face flashed with anger and remorse as he recalled Luna opening up to him the magical, physical and sexual torture she had endured in the months she had been prisoner to the Death Eaters. He had been in love with her since the tender age of 15, but in that moment he felt he had never met anyone so brave and strong, and he knew he would follow her anywhere.

Draco took a shaky breath and continued, “I told her every night I would try and help her escape, get her out of there. She told me not to even think of it, there was no way out and there was no sense in both of us dying. Only two or three nights before Potter was brought there, I had brought her food and she asked for my wand for a moment. I didn’t even think before I handed it over. She could have tried to escape right then. Instead she pressed the tip of my wand to her wrist, and then to mine. I didn't know what spell she was using, she did it without saying a word. Immediately I felt new feelings that weren’t my own flood through me and she told me what she’d done. She told me we would survive this, if not in body then in spirit. But she truly believed, after all the things they did to her, that she would leave there alive. I could feel it. She told me that we were connected and no matter how far apart we were we would feel each other’s life force, pain, joy, and when we were close enough we would be able to know exactly where the other was. And if we were needed.”

Neville stared him, mouth agape. He had never heard of such a spell. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel envy or jealousy at the connection between the man before him and his girlfriend.

“How...” he stammered finally.

“Her mother.” Draco said simply. “She told me later how her mother had accidentally killed herself experimenting with a new spell, but that she had created many more before that. She said her mother created this charm so Luna would always feel her mothers presence and she would know when Luna needed her.”

Neville nodded slowly. He had come to terms with Luna’s attachment to Draco almost as soon as he learned of it. And he had no animosity for the man still pacing in front of him.

“She’s a brilliant witch isn’t she,” he said.

Draco nodded. “I know she says that I kept her alive by feeding and healing her, but even after Potter helped her escape, feeling her overwhelming hope inside me and knowing she was out there, she had survived, helped me carry on to the end. All I wanted after that was to help prevent any others going through what she did. It's like she knew i would need her to carry on.”

"I'm sorry," he added after a pause. He had certainly been cruel to Neville in their youth. "It must have been hard for you, knowing Luna was visiting me of all people."

“I never minded, not really. The way she spoke of you when she came back, I knew she needed you as much as you did her. And Malfo- Draco. You really did all you could, you know. Anyone with a brain can see that. You did keep her alive in there. If you really had have done anything to break her out I wouldn't have the woman I love with me now." He paused for breath, and stood as if to leave. "It's going be tough for everyone for a long time coming, but remember to cut yourself some slack. In the end, we all did the best we could. Now, we better head back to the castle before she really does tell the Pansy where to find you. I know she’s itching to see you today, and you should put the others out of their misery too.”

Draco sighed as he followed Neville out of the ramparts and across the pitch back to the castle.

.........

“Where can he be?”

Pansy was stomping around the common room, having spent the entire day searching for Draco. They had been back one day, and he had already disappeared. 

“Come on Pans, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Theodore tried to soothe the girl, though he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t feeling worried also.

“How could he be so stupid, just disappearing like that?” Pansy shot back. “He knows as well as we do the chance we’ve been given, being allowed to come back here. He can’t just be off doing secret things!”

“He’ll be back soon,” Luna sang, a smile playing on her lips. She was watching the portrait hole expectantly.

“How could you even know-”

Pansy was cut off as the portrait swung open and Neville climbed through, followed closely by Draco.

“Well finally,” Pansy spat, though her eyes were filled with relief and she slumped down in an armchair, all fight leaving her body.

“Sorry,” Draco muttered, sitting down in the armchair closest to Luna, while Neville took the seat on the couch beside her.

Pansy nodded, keeping her eyes clenched shut.

Blaise and Theodore sat on the rug beside their friends, oblivious to the silent conversation between Draco and the strange Ravenclaw girl.

..........

Thought she wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, Hermione too had been occupied with Draco’s absence throughout the day. She was going over tomorrow’s schedule with Harry and Ron on the couches on the other side of the room, struggling to pay attention, when he finally entered the common room.

“He’s back,” Harry said softly so he wasn’t overheard.

Both of his friends looked over at the Blonde boy. Hermione thought back to that morning and felt blush creeping up her neck as she remembered his arm clamped around her waist. Again, she felt a tingling in the spot where his hand had been. What in Merlin's name was wrong with her?

“Hermione are you okay?” Ron interrupted her thoughts.

“What?” She started. “Oh yes, yes I’m fine, sorry just in a daze.”

Ron was satisfied with her answer and carried on looking over his class list. If he could pretend that the Slytherins weren’t there then maybe he would get through the year in peace. Harry, however, cocked his head and looked at her and again over at Draco. Quickly Hermione grabbed his schedule from him and compared it with hers.

“We do have most of the same classes together. I'm really looking forward to Medi-charms. I just have Arithmamcy and Ancient Runes. Oh, it looks like you both have free periods when I have those classes,” she added unhappily. For once in her life, Hermione wasn’t yearning to fill all of her time with new learning. She had to admit, she was tired.

“It’s alright Hermione. It’s only three hours a week,” Ron said. Hermione looked at him as if to say that that was three hours too many to be apart from them. “You have that free hour with us every day too, what was it for again?”

“It's like a session with a mind Healer,” Harry frowned. “It’s not compulsory to go but Kingsley was explaining it on the train, it a program the Ministry is organising to help with trauma from the war. He wants me to go at least twice a week to encourage other students to partake.”

“I think that would be a good idea, Harry.” Ron nodded as Hermione spoke. “Merlin knows we suffered. But there’s some students here,” she glanced over at Luna and she knew Harry and Ron were thinking of Ginny, “that went through things we probably couldn’t even fathom right now. I think it would help them.”

“You’re right, as usual.” Harry smiled back at her. “You two have to come too though, I’m not doing it without you.”

“Of course, mate.” Ron clapped him on the back. “Till the end remember?”

“Right,” Hermione said, breaking them out of their reverie. “I’m going to-“

“The library,” Harry and Ron said together.

All three laughed, and for the first time in many months, the Trio felt like like it could be easy to slip back into their life before the war.

.............

The next two weeks had gone by with little incident, mostly due to Harry’s insistence that the Slytherins were to be left alone. Draco, Pansy, Theodore and Blaise has been set up with a strict schedule and curfew. They were to attend every class and daily healing session on their timetables, unless in the hospital wing, in which case Madame Pomfrey would notify their professor. They had two free periods per week, where it was suggested heavily they spent the time in the library or common room. They fell into their new routine without complaint, anxious to keep their heads down and finish each day in one piece. Draco had most of his classes with the Golden Trio, but had so far managed to avoid any interaction with them. Teachers generally skimmed over him as if he weren't there, and he couldn't say he minded too much. It had been a slow start to the school year, as if the professors were worried about rushing the weathered students and causing stress. He was eager catch up on what he had missed in the last two years. He was, at least, confident in his healing abilities, having used them regularly during the war, so he was quite looking forward to when they could practice spells in Medi-charms.

He was also surprised by his daily Healing sessions with the mind-Healer from St Mungo's. She was an aging, homely looking witch whose name was not divulged to him. She was also a Ministry-registered Legillimens. Apparently the Ministry thought it would be easier to open up to someone that you couldn't hide your thoughts from. In his first session he had tried to use his Occlumency training, but this had been fruitless. The witch had skill that rivaled even that of Severus Snape or the Dark Lord. After that, his thoughts and nightmares had flown almost freely from his mouth, and he had broken down in sobs more than once. At the end of each session, the mind-healers' gift to him was to leave feeling a little lighter and without shame, at least until the nightmares came once more.

Draco was sitting alone in the library on Saturday morning with his first two weeks worth of homework spread out in front of him. In prime position was the assignment from that weeks healing sessions, basically to keep a dream diary. He snorted, thinking back to when he took Divination in third year. He didn’t need to unlock any of the secrets of his nightmares. They were always memories as clear as the day they happened. He sighed and brought his quill to the parchment, and began to write, knowing it would be hours before his friends woke and came to find him.

.......

Hermione hadn’t had much sleep in her first couple of weeks back at school. She had attended her classes anxious for distraction, frustrated that lesson after lesson had been filled with speeches and theory. She knew that her professors were tip toeing around the youths.

After two weeks of mind-numbing book work, she had risen with the sun and decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet. It was the first time she had walked alone through the castle since she had been back. Pulling her robes tightly around her, she made her way to the library. The walk seemed longer than she recalled. As she took in familiar statues and tapestries, ran her fingers along the cold stone of the long corridors, her mind filled with bright flashing lights of red, blue and green, shrieks of despair and bodies all around her. She paused at the staircase where the mauled body of Lavender Brown had been. A strangled sob escaped her and she all but ran to the safety of the library. Images spun through her mind as she tore through the halls. Remus, Tonks, Fred, Lavender, Dumbledore...

Tears were flowing freely when Hermione finally reached the safety of the library. Stepping inside, she leant against the cool stone and closed her eyes, using a fistful of her robes to wipe her wet cheeks. She took a breath and inhaled the familiar scent of old books and parchment, her breathing evened and the tears slowed, unaware that a pair of steel eyes were watching her.

Hermione slowly moved through the countless aisles, running her fingers along the weathered spines of ancient tomes. One caught her eye on the shelf above her. It had a worn green leather jacket that reminded her of the colour of moss, and rusty lettering in runes that she couldn’t make out. She tugged on the book to pull it down but it was stuck. Irritated, Hermione gave another hard yank and it and two other heavy tomes came tumbling down.

She yelped, closing her eyes and bracing for the impact against her skull, but none came. Looking above her, she saw the three books levitating to the oaken bench in a neat stack. She was rooted to the spot, trying to remember if the library had been charmed to prevent injury before.

“For someone who is responsible for saving the entire Wizarding World, you’re quite clumsy Granger.”

Hermione spun to her right, where Draco was standing between the bookshelves, his wand arm lowering as she stared. There was no sign of the usual Malfoy smirk on his lips, just a curious, hopeful half-smile. She could tell he was avoiding her eyes, looking everywhere else but at her. She took in his lean frame, looking stronger than when she’d seen him at his manor on that dark night almost six months ago. Someone must have been making sure he was fed. Not being surrounded by mad men and women and darkness was good for ones' health apparently, she thought wryly. His face was still hollow and drawn, as if he hadn’t rested well in years. He was at least a head taller than her, his shoulders broader than he remembered. His smooth alabaster skin was in stark contrast with the dark sweater he was wearing. His hair, though unkempt and sticking out in all directions, seemed to almost shine in the soft morning sun.

Hermione shook her head, shocked at herself. This was Malfoy, she thought. I, Hermione Granger will NOT think about about that git’s shiny hair...

Suddenly remembering she was staring at Draco, she broke herself out of her thoughts and realized he looked very uncomfortable, eyes flitting about as if he were being scrutinized.

Hermione gestured distractedly to the books on the table, saying, “was that you? Who stopped the books from falling?”

He nodded.

“I couldn’t exactly let you be knocked out while we were the only ones down here, could I?” He said. “I’d be out of here and in a cell under the Ministry faster than you could say blast ended skrewt.” He grimaced at his poor attempt at humour.

Hermione registered the truth in his words, even if he tried to disguise it as a joke. If she had been seriously injured with no one around to defend him, he probably wouldn't even make it out of the castle, let alone to prison. Trying to ignore the fact that this was the third time he had saved her from injury in less than two weeks, she ran her fingers through her waist length mane, not noticing Draco’s sharp intake of breath as her auburn tresses caught the sunlight.

“What are you doing down here so early?” She asked, trying to avert the attention from her obvious impairment to her balance.

“Probably the same as you, Granger, though I’m trying to fill my time with actual school work. That doesn’t look like anything covered in any of our classes.” He nodded to the green leather book with the rusted runes on its spine.

Hermione shifted sheepishly.

“It’s Ancient Runes,” she said. “I’ve already completed it at n.e.w.t. level actually, but I didn’t recognize the markings so I was curious. To be honest with you, I’ve already finished all the assignments from this week. I just wanted some alone time.”

Draco stared. “Some of them aren’t even due for three weeks!” He had, of course, always known she was bordering on genius, but he couldn’t get passed the fact that she hadn’t even entered her 7th year before she’d surpassed any coursework available at the school.

“Well what else am I supposed to do?” Hermione snapped. “It’s not like I’m getting any sleep here anyway.”

She sat down and rubbed her temples. She closed her eyes as Draco tentatively moved closer and sat at the table, keeping a safe distance between them.

“I haven’t even started,” he said a little guiltily. “Not that I’m getting much sleep either, I can’t get used to the idea of sharing a room with three Gryffindors, so naturally I’m not spending much time in there. They're probably happy about that. And I just can’t seem to get the words onto parchment anyway. I missed last year completely too, and was hardly present in 6th year..”

He trailed off shyly, a vulnerability about him that reminded Hermione of when he was set the impossible task of murdering Dumbledore by Voldemort. Impossible, and surely just a punishment for Draco's parents for letting down the maniac when Lucius hadn't been able to retrieve the prophecy. Hermione opened her mouth to offer assistance with his coursework and then promptly closed it. This wasn’t Harry or Ron sitting with her. This was Malfoy. His family had hated her kind for centuries, possibly even longer. Not to mention he had personally made it his mission over their school years before the war to never forget her supposedly dirty blood status. His own aunt had tortured and butchered her on his lounge room floor. She suddenly felt an overwhelming need to get away from him.

“You know what, the others will probably be up now. I'd better get to breakfast before they miss me," she stammered, hurriedly gathering her bag and moving to leave the table.

"Wait."

She stopped suddenly as she felt a soft hand on her arm. Looking up at Draco, Hermione saw desperation flash across his face as he leant over the table, holding her in place. Trepidation rose within her as she felt a profound sense that she was exactly where she was meant to be. 

"What?"she said fearfully. The sparks that seemed to be shooting up her arm where her old nemesis still touched her were making her disoriented. 

"Why were you crying?" Draco's voice was pleading, as if he would have done anything in that moment to alleviate her grief. 

"There are just too many ghosts," Hermione whispered. 

Draco's eyes widened in surprise, his hand flinging away from her as if electrocuted. Seizing the opportunity, Hermione fled from the library, away from where he had slumped back in his chair, suddenly exhausted. 

Draco watched her go, regret building in him as he sat there. Too many ghosts. Of course, there was just too much dark history between them. Too much grief and hurt. He would never redeem himself in Hermione’s eyes, or the others. He would never earn their trust. Not that he could blame them. It was true that Malfoys’ had a habit of changing sides when it suited them most. As she disappeared, he couldn’t shake the image of her face, her milky white skin and tear-filled eyes that managed to be soft while still full of burning heat.

Groaning, Draco dropped his head to the table. He couldn’t be having these thoughts. He was trying to change himself, Merlin himself knew it. But it still didn’t do to dwell on dreams that would never come to fruition.

With that, his stomach let off a low grumble. Sighing, Draco packed away his own books and parchments with a flick of his wand, and followed a faint floral scent to the great hall for breakfast, auburn tresses billowing like flames in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave some love in the reviews and read on!
> 
> Sophia x


	4. A Seeing Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, my dear boy, that will become very plain in the future.” She turned suddenly to face him, and he almost ran into her. She placed a cold hand on his cheek in an almost motherly gesture, and he froze. “You may not have an orb in the department of mysteries, but your fate is no less decided than that of the Dark Lords. Take heed of my words. Do not fight it, and do not force it. As ever, you will always be where fate intends.”

A Seeing Stone

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. Hermione had felt as though she constantly had a pair of eyes on her in her classes, though every time she snapped her head up and looked across the room to catch the culprit, she was met with the top of a messy, white-blonde mop of hair, the owner of which concentrating a little too hard on the work in front of him. She would never have admitted it, but between this and the constant need to move closer to Draco Malfoy, Hermione was finding it very difficult to concentrate on her school work. By late October, she was ready to bang her head against the wall.

“Uhm, Hermione. That really is brilliant and everything, but we’re meant to be turning the lizard into a kettle…”

Hermione started as she was snapped out of her day-dreaming. She looked at her desk and realised in her absent mindedness she had transformed her chameleon into a tiny crystal dragon, his silver eyes staring up at her affectionately as white smoke billowed from his nostrils. It was really very beautiful. Her eyes darted down to the page they were meant to be reading, and realised she had read the wrong incantation. Draconifors. She didn’t even recognise the spell. If she wasn’t so confused, she would have slapped herself in embarrassment. Quickly waving her wand to conjure up another little lizard, she popped the dragon in her pocket in the hopes no one else had noticed. The prickling feeling on the back of her neck told her otherwise.

Hermione was sitting beside Ginny in transfiguration classroom, grateful that it was not Ron or Harry. Though Harry had wanted to sit beside his girlfriend, as though afraid of being away from her too long, Ginny had insisted that he sat with Ron on the other side of the room if he wanted to get any work done at all. Hermione was glad of this too. Though Ron really was a very clever wizard when he set his mind to it, he just never seemed to set his mind to it, and over the years Hermione had grown weary of quickly finishing his assignment for him at the end of class while he doodled broomsticks in his textbook.

“Is everything okay Hermione?” Ginny asked the girl gently. “You’ve been so distracted over the last few weeks.”

Hermione sighed. The flame haired girl beside her had always been so much more perceptive than her two best friends, despite their adventures together. At that moment though, as she thought back on her lack of experience with boys, she was glad of the fact.

“Everything is fine…” Hermione thought for a second and changed her mind, brushing her fingers through her locks in frustration as she felt those eyes on the back of her head again. “Actually, no, it’s not fine. I feel like I’m going mental.”

Ginny’s eyes widened at her friend’s admission.

“What is it? Please let me help.”

“There’s this person who I just can’t seem to stop thinking about- “

“Ooh!” Ginny squealed under her breath. “Are you seeing someone?”

“No!” Hermione had to laugh at the girl’s enthusiasm. “Of course not, when on earth would I have time, not to mention to successfully keep it from you.”

“You’re right,” Ginny mused. “What is it then? Someone you like? Oh it’s…” She dropped her voice and looked at Hermione apologetically. “It’s not Ron is it?”

“Merlin, no. We decided a while ago that we were just fine as friends. And nothing was going to come between that!” Hermione said assuredly.

It was common knowledge to those close to them that Ron and Hermione had tested the waters for a relationship but that it had come to nothing. Everyone had been pleasantly surprised at their ability to continue on as if nothing had happened.

“Okay,” Ginny frowned, lowering her eyes from where her brother sat across the room with her boyfriend, both of them sharing the same discombobulated look as both of their lizards remained painfully lizard-like. She looked about the room at the small group of 7th years seated around them. There really weren’t many options for her friend to choose from. Most of the young people in their year had dove into relationships as soon as the Battle had happened, in the joy and elation of post-war life. Hermione could see that the curiosity was almost overwhelming. “Who is it then?”

“I can’t tell you,” Hermione said glumly. “It doesn’t matter anyway; nothing could possibly come of it. And, to be honest with you Ginny, it makes absolutely no sense, even to myself.”

“You never know,” Ginny said kindly, patting Hermione’s hand. She could see the turmoil wreaking havoc inside her head, and decided not to press her further. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try and work it out later though. “Look at me and Harry. I think it’s safe to say we are meant to be together. Who would have thought he would ever end up marrying his best friend’s little- “

“Marrying?” Hermione tried hard not to shriek, and Ginny’s face went pale.

“Oh Merlin, pretend I didn’t say anything. Obliviate this conversation away!”

“I will do no such thing.” Hermione whispered and flicked her eyes up to where Harry was sitting looking over at them with a frown on his face. She suppressed a giggle when Ron demanded his attention and he pulled a stricken expression that matched Ginny’s.

“Marrying? Did he ask you then? I knew he would, but I expected us all to finish school first!”

“He asked me over the summer, while we were staying at Grimmauld Place.” Ginny blushed, smiling at the memory. “We were trying to charm the wallpaper in the kitchen to turn any colour other than grey, and I turned around and he was just kneeling there! I didn’t know whether to cry with happiness or be sick!”

Both girls lapsed into a quiet fit of giggles. After a few minutes their laughter died down, and Hermione furrowed her brow in thought.

“Have you told your mum and dad yet?” She asked, and Ginny shook her head almost violently. “Why not?”

“Mum and dad… well, they eloped during You-Know-Who’s rise to power the first time didn’t they,” she said a matter-of-factly.

Hermione was confused by Ginny’s reaction.

“Won’t that mean they’ll understand then?”

“No! They rushed into it, see? Don’t get me wrong, they would’ve got married eventually. They were made for each other. But they rushed into it the year they finished Hogwarts because they didn’t know if they would survive the war. They would be happy for me of course, and Harry’s like a son to them already. They just want us to take the chances they weren’t able to have, especially after the end of another war. Mum doesn’t just want me to just be a housewife and a mother, stuck at home with a baby.”

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed. “I suppose you’re right. And if you think about it, it’s exactly what Harry’s parents did too, just about ten years later. But it’s not like you two are thinking about having children yet anyway.”

She saw her friend side-eyeing her sheepishly.

“Ginny!” Hermione admonished the girl sat beside her. “You can’t be serious! I mean, I’d love to dress up for a wedding as much as the next girl, but a child?”

“I know, I know. Of course we aren’t thinking about having a baby!” Ginny blustered, averting her eyes. Hermione thought there was more to the matter but was more than happy to change the subject. It wasn’t all that long ago that she believed she would never have the opportunity to have her own children.

“So, when will you tell them?”

“After school is finished,” Ginny sighed. “I wish we could just leave and do it now. Me and Harry, we’re meant to be together, you know? But if I have any hopes of getting mum on side, I have to at least finish my education. But enough about all that for now. You better transfigure that chameleon before you have to explain to everyone about that silver eyed dragon in your pocket!”

Hermione groaned, blushing profusely as Ginny winked at her.

Apparently, she was more transparent than she had hoped.

……………………………

Later that evening, after being completely put off her dinner by Harry and Ron stuffing their faces with food, Hermione changed into a soft woollen jumper and made her way down to Hagrid’s pumpkin patch, where she often went to enjoy the sunset and read in peace.

When she arrived there, she transfigured the largest pumpkin into a cosy little nook, complete with a little window and small table in the centre. She conjured a blanket and a tiny fire of brilliant blue flames before she sat down. Settling in, she pulled a liquorice wand from her bag and opened the large moss green book with the strange runes that she had felt compelled to go back to the library to retrieve after her interaction with Draco. With her wand in her hand, she murmured incantations over the pages, pouring over her own ancient runes notes as she did so. Finally, one word, or rather a spell, jumped out at her.

“Draconifors.”

Hermione’s brows knitted together. That was the second time she had come across the spell that day. She pulled out the beautiful crystal dragon she had made earlier in class, brought it up to eye level and frowned, the coincidence puzzling her. The white smoke blowing from its nostrils felt like ice on her face. She pulled her advanced transfiguration textbook from her bag and flicked to the page she had been studying that morning. She searched from front to back but couldn’t seem to find the spell anywhere. She snapped her eyes shut, frustrated, before turning back to the runes. After several more minutes, all she had made out were the words ‘draconifors’, ‘dragon’ and ‘transformed’, which she took to simply mean transform into a dragon, as that was what had happened to her chameleon.

Hermione slammed the giant tome shut and stuffed it into her bag, grumbling. She was so used to always finding the answers she sought in the pages of books, so when she didn’t it was particularly unnerving for her. She lit a small fire in her hiding place that so reminded her of Cinderella’s carriage. Only it was far smaller and had no wheels. She was surprised to see it was almost 8pm, and started to gather her things together. She was pulling her cloak around her, admiring the little dragon in her hand when she froze at the sound of rustling on the other side of her large pumpkin wall.

Hermione pointed her wand out in front of her, preparing for an attack as she crept around the edge, feeling her heart bursting out of her chest as a voice spoke.

“Careful, Granger, I’m unarmed!”

“Draco?!” Hermione blinked in the darkness as she made out the man’s hair shining in the moonlight in front of her. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing her? I… You… I could have hexed you!”

“I’m sorry!” Draco stepped around her into the light of her little blue fire, keeping a safe distance.

Rounding upon him ready for an argument, Hermione lost her voice for a moment as she took in the sight of him. His ivory skin was glowing in the light of the flames, his hair almost silver and seeming to flow in the still night air. If this had been the first time that she had laid eyes on him, she would have sworn he was something more ethereal. If she had never learnt of magic, it would have been proof enough. And his eyes…

Hermione shook her head, startled at herself. Trying to pull herself together, she said, “What are you doing down her Malfoy?” She grimaced internally as she stumbled over the words.

“I, ugh, I came down to see you actually.” Draco dropped his eyes as if a little guilty. “I saw you leave the castle from the tower window, and saw you make your little… whatever this is.” He gestured around him. “I never saw you come back to the common room so I thought…”

“What?” Hermione was surprised at the sharpness to her tone. “What did you think?” She added, a little more softly.

“I was just checking that you were okay.” Draco had his gaze fixed on the ground now, like a sad little boy. “I wondered if you were crying again, and thought you might want some company.”

Hermione was dumbfounded. How could it be that the boy who had taunted her for years now seemed overly concerned for her welfare? The thought was quite preposterous to her, yet here they were. She wanted desperately to just excuse herself and lock herself in her room to deal with her confusion alone, but something kept her glued to the spot, as if it were vital their conversation continued.

“Well actually, I was just reading. It’s peaceful out here, in the open air. And I’ll have you know; my little pumpkin house is very cosy.”

She ducked back inside, fighting the blush that she felt creeping up her neck as she heard Draco climb in behind her. The space seemed to expand as the wall closed.

“Cosy,” Draco mumbled, looking around as if the very word offended his senses.

“Oh sit down,” Hermione laughed. “It may not be Malfoy Manor, but you can’t tell me it isn’t comfy.”

Draco remained unconvinced. The grimace on his face reminded Hermione of the entitled brat she was used to. At least some things don’t change, she thought wryly.

“So what are you reading?” Draco asked her.

Hermione heaved the heavy book back out of her bag and dropped it with a thud on the tiny table between them. Draco frowned as he leant over it.

“The book that you nearly dropped on yourself in the library? I thought you would have wanted to stay as far away from it as you could,” he gave a smile almost reminiscent of the old Malfoy smirk as he remembered her clumsiness.

“Har-har.” Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the page she had been studying. “I’ve been pouring over this cursed book for hours and all I can make out is two words, and a spell that makes…” She blushed again as she glanced up at him and saw he was watching her face intently. “It transfigures the object into a dragon.”

Draco ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Is that what you were doing in transfiguration today? Practicing the spell? I noticed the dragon,” he finished, as if caught out that he had been watching her. Hermione found the pink tinge in his cheeks quite distracting.

“I didn’t mean to! I thought I saw the spell in the textbook and now I can’t even find it!”

Ignoring Draco’s sudden bashfulness, Hermione pulled out her little creation, smiling slightly as it unfurled its glistening crystal wings. She looked up at Draco’s sharp intake of breath and saw that his eyes were focused on the dragon, as if he had never seen anything like it.

“It’s beautiful Hermione,” he whispered.

Hermione couldn’t tear her eyes away from Draco’s awestruck ones, noticing how the dragon seemed to reflect in his endless pools of silver… She shook her head, as if trying to expel the thoughts running through her mind. Looking back at the dragon, she frowned.

“It’s strange how it’s still here, isn’t it?” she asked, running a finger lightly down its back.

“Strange?”

“Nothing I’ve ever transfigured has ever lasted this long before,” She explained plainly. “Usually, within minutes, it usually just swaps back. This has lasted,” she quickly checked her watch, “six hours.”

“Maybe it was just meant to be.”

Hermione snapped her head up and swallowed the squeak in her throat when she found that Draco’s eyes were no longer on the dragon but fixed directly on hers, emblazoned with some emotion she couldn’t place. She felt it mirrored deep in her core, an overwhelming sense of something.

As if using all of her willpower, Hermione leant back. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, and when she opened them, she saw that Draco too had widened the space between them, a confused look on his own face, mixed with something else. Hurt? She shook her head again, and started scrambling to gather her things.

“I need to go,” she trembled, her hands shaking as she reached for the crystal dragon that was now in Draco’s hand as moved to kneel from where he was sitting on the floor of the pumpkin nook in front of her. He lifted his hand to hers and she cried out in surprise as her fingers wrapped around the sparkling wings. She almost missed the startled gasp that came from Draco.

An image flashed in Hermione’s mind as clear as if it were a memory. Draco was kneeling as he was now, only he was older, his face hopeful. She yanked her hand away, dropping the dragon as she did so, and scarpered away. Draco was thankful for his quick reflexes as he dived forward and caught it before it hit the ground, and hurriedly climbed out of the pumpkin behind Hermione as the magic started to fade and it returned to its normal size.

“Hermione,” Draco called after her as she ran away from him and back to the castle, his voice pleading with her as it had that day in the library.

Hermione didn’t let herself look back, despite the urge within her to do so. She didn’t stop running until she reached the 7th floor corridor, where she slid down the wall to catch her breath. She looked to her left, towards the portrait hole behind which her friends would be waiting for her, and back to the blank wall opposite where she was sitting. Sighing, with tears in her eyes, she stood before the wall.

“I need somewhere to hide.”

………………………….

Draco waited a few minutes in the entrance hall before making his own slow ascent to the north tower. Inexplicable sadness prickled inside him as he thought of Hermione sprinting away from him, but if she was feeling anything like the way he was feeling then he couldn’t blame her. He snorted at the thought. Of course, there was no way that she felt the same. She probably just forgot for a moment that she was sitting with an ex death and was desperate to get out of there. He wondered if she had seen the same vision she had as they both touched the crystal dragon, the memory of which still had him reeling.

He had thought of her so often over the years, and had done his absolute best to hide his fascination with the girl, to the point of being inexcusably cruel to her. But even now, he couldn’t quite explain even to himself why he was so drawn to the muggleborn witch. He knew she was beautiful, that was easy for anyone to see. Not even the proudest pureblood could deny it. She was also a brilliant witch, rivalling any great magician of their time. Even with all that, Draco just couldn’t understand the strange yearning inside him to be close to her.

As he reached the 6th floor corridor, he pulled the dragon carefully from his pocket and paused, frowning as he looked into its eyes. He would recognise them anywhere, having seen them his whole life reflected back at him whenever he looked into a mirror.

“Tread carefully, my boy.”

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin, juggling the figure in his hands in the attempt not to drop it. when it was safe in his grasp, he turned to see Sybil Trelawney stood conspicuously beside a tapestry to his right.

“Professor,” he greeted her wearily. He had spent enough time in her classroom to take her warnings with a pinch of salt, but was cautious of the fact that she was the seer who foretold of the birth of Harry Potter, and the dark lord’s downfall.

“What an interesting bauble,” the eccentric witch said in a dreamy voice that reminded him of Luna, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Crystal such as this takes a powerful magic to create it, you know.”

“A classmate made it,” Draco replied, keeping his face as blank as he could manage.

“Hmm, yes I always knew she was a rather bright girl,” Trelawney mused. “It’s a shame she had such an indifference to the art of divination. And here she is, manifesting her own seeing stone. If only she knew the power she truly has.”

Draco frowned before he could stop himself. As he recalled the day in their third year when Hermione had stormed out of their divination class, knocking over a crystal ball in the process, and he realised that Trelawney knew exactly who had made the dragon. He brought it up to his eyes and examined it closely.

“You mean this is the same as a prophecy orb?”

“Yes,” the witch said distractedly as she searched for something in her extravagantly beaded robes. “Yes, and no. She has created a seeing stone in the likeness of one with whom she is bound by fate, and only the two may use it to look into their own ‘beyond’. Ah,” she finished happily, pulling a sherry bottle from her pocket. She turned to walk away, as if there wasn’t a confused young man stood beside her.

“Wait, professor!” Draco hurried behind her. “What does this all mean!”

“Oh, my dear boy, that will become very plain in the future.” She turned suddenly to face him, and he almost ran into her. She placed a cold hand on his cheek in an almost motherly gesture, and he froze. “You may not have an orb in the department of mysteries, but your fate is no less decided than that of the Dark Lords. Take heed of my words. Do not fight it, and do not force it. As ever, you will always be where fate intends.”

At that, Trelawney swayed away from Draco, who was rooted to the spot. He glanced sharply at the dragon again before shoving it back into his pocket in frustration, and continued to the north tower.

Draco paused for a short moment at the wall that would lead to the room of requirement, breathing heavily as he took in the stone. He raised a hand slightly as if to push open a door, but stopped himself, walking quickly away to the entrance of the 7th year common room.

As he knew they would be, all of Hermione’s friends were gathered around the fire place, chatting happily. He was surprised to see Hermione was not sat with them. Maybe she truly didn’t want to see him, he thought sadly. As he walked briskly passed the group trying to avoid eye contact, he noticed Ginny Weasley look his way, a startled look on her face as she looked him up and down. This confused him, until he put his hand in his pocket and felt the dragon sticking out, blowing white smoke out. He pushed it down further and all but ran to his dorm, groaning as he reached the comfortable solitude of his own bed.

He turned to his side and placed the tiny creature on his pillow in front of his face and looked into its eyes. As his eyes drifted shut, he entered a fitful sleep where every answer seemed to lead to a hundred more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave some love in the reviews and read on!
> 
> Sophia x


	5. Back to the Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Above him loomed the magnificent Manor, it’s diamond-paned windows gleaming in the morning sun. Upon taking a step forward, he froze, glued to the spot. Impending dread filled him to his core, memories of pain becoming almost overwhelming. Draco shook the fear away, confused. He knew he was apprehensive returning to his old home, but this level of fear was unfounded. As realisation hit him, he looked behind him to where Luna had dropped to her knees, all trace of light and hope gone from her stricken face as her wide eyes gleaned fearfully at the imposing building.

**Back to the Manor** ****

The next day, the day before Hallowe'en, Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table opposite Harry and Ron, staring down apprehensively at the letter in front of her. Her lack of sleep now combined with the shock of its contents, she fought to keep her head from just crashing down to the table.

“They want us to do what now?” Said Ron, bewildered, as he and Harry reread the same letter for the fifth time.

“They want us to go there... back to that place?” Hermione breathed unsteadily. “Surely they can’t be serious!”

She thought she might pass out as Bellatrix Lestrange at Malfoy Manor loomed in her mind, and her forearm started burning.

“Hermione, breathe,” Harry said soberly. “You don’t have to go, but think about it? They’ve taken all the dark magical objects from there, so it will be safe. I have to go, I already told Kingsley I’d make an appearance when they asked. I think they want our insight more than anything. With Dumbledore gone, there isn’t a person alive that knows Tom Riddle as well as we do. Apart from his Death Eaters, but even they didn’t really know him. They think we might find something that will help locate the ones still on the run. And there’s more of them still out there than any of us want to admit.”

Hermione shuddered and Ron put his hand on hers. She smiled at him gratefully as Neville and Ginny joined them. The three of them moved to hide their letters before Neville let out a low, humourless laugh.

“Don’t bother. Luna has been asked to to go back to the Manor as well.”

Ginny went pale at the thought.

“She can’t! You can’t let her! How could they think that would be appropriate after everything she went through there!”

Neville sat down sadly.

“I’d stop it if I could. She knew Draco was going to have to go back and she wrote to the Ministry requesting to join him when he did. They tried to argue it with her using the same reason as you, Ginny, but she insisted.”

They sat in silence for a moment in awe at the bravery of their friend. They looked up as Luna entered the Great Hall with Draco. He looked flustered as if pleading with her. She patted him of the cheek with a decisive smile playing on her lips and left him to join the Gryffindors. Draco stared after her with a stony look on his face for a second before turning on his heel and stalking out of the Hall.

“Oh! You’ve all got your letters too.” Luna sat down between Ginny and Neville, placing her hand on Neville’s knee as he wrapped his arm firmly around his love, ready to protect her from some hidden foe. She smiled a small smile as she continued. “It’ll be very sad for us all, I’m sure. Especially Draco. He had to grow up there you know. He was treated very badly by You Know Who, and others a long time before he got there. But we’ve got each other don’t we.”

They stared at her as she turned to gaze dreamily into Neville’s, and he kissed her on the forehead. Hermione and the others looked away, embarrassed at the intimate show of affection. If she hadn’t have already known Luna’s character so well, she might have thought her time at the manor had really broken her. And who would have blamed her if it had? She looked down again at her letter, seeing when they were wanted.

“Tomorrow? They didn’t give us much time to prepare did they?” She said anxiously.

“It’ll be okay Hermione.” Ron put his hand on hers once more. “Like Luna said, we’ve all got each other. You won’t be alone for a minute.”

Hermione nodded and managed a small smile.

.............

The next morning at 6am, Hermione and Luna met Harry and Ron in the common room to make their way to Professor McGonagall’s office. It would be their first time entering the office since Harry had taken Snapes’ memories to the pensieve.

“Where’s Malfoy?” Hermione asked the boys. She tried to convince herself that she wasn't aching to see his face.

“He was gone when we woke up, he must have left for McGonagall’s already,” Harry replied.

“Yes, he was feeling particularly anxious this morning,” said Luna, as she made her way out of the portrait hole.

“Okay that’s going to take some getting used to,” said Harry, as he led the way after her.

Ron nodded, before adding, “it’s weird, is what it is...”

Hermione followed, trailing behind. She was too preoccupied with the day ahead to think too much on the strange girl and her even stranger mental connection to the ex-Death Eater. She hadn’t even given much thought on the exceptional piece of magic Luna had achieved in such a connection.

.......

As they arrived in McGonagall’s office, they nodded in acknowledgment of Draco who shuffled awkwardly and stood as far from them as he could without knocking over one of the many magical golden instruments in the cluttered space. Luna took her place beside him and he smiled a relieved smile at her presence. Hermione kept her eyes straight forward. She felt conflicted and a little guilty after their interaction the night before. She had spent the night in the room of requirement, tossing and turning in her sleep as she dreamt that she had not, in fact, ran away from him. She blushed at the memory, wondering what he had done with her dragon.

The fireplace roared to life as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped through bright green frames. He noticed that all those invited were present, his eyes lingering over Luna. Feeling it was not the time to protest her attendance, he began in his deep soothing voice, “It is very good to see you all looking so well. I hope none of you minded being drawn away from your studies.”

_I mind,_ Hermione thought to herself bitterly. Did the Ministry really feel their presence at the Manor was that important? Hadn’t they already emptied it of anything dark or mysterious? She noticed Draco’s solemn stare, and remembered he hadn’t lived at the Manor since before the Battle. Where had he been living?

“I suppose you’re all wondering why you’ve been asked to join us today. As you are all aware, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement along with the Order of the Phoenix has combed through every inch of Malfoy Manor, and wouldn’t entertain the idea of you attending if there were any more danger present. However, most of you here spent more time with or studying Lord Voldemort than anyone else alive, or at least anyone willing to talk. We would appreciate greatly for you all the take the time to look through what remains inside the Manor, with our hopes that your specific knowledge will help uncover the identities or whereabouts of the remaining Death Eaters in hiding.”

With an encouraging nod from Luna, Draco stepped forward, taking a deep breath as he did so.

“I know you’re all aware that the Manor has been removed by the Ministry from the Malfoy estate,” he addressed the room. “Today will be the first time I will have returned there since before the Battle of Hogwarts. I can tell you now I have no love lost for the place, and I’m more than willing to contribute in any way I can when we arrive there. I want to see the rest of those bastards put away as much as the rest of you.”

The room fell silent as Draco finished his speech. He felt blood start to rush to his cheeks until Harry stepped forward.

“We do know, Malfoy, just like we know how hard it’ll be for you to be back there. Merlin knows it’s not going to be easy on any of us. Your help today will be invaluable.”

Draco nodded in thanks, his eyes low.

Kingsley clapped his hands together.

“Right then. We should make haste. We will be flooing to an Order safe house in Wiltshire and apparating from there. If you would follow me momentarily.”

Stepping back into the fireplace, Kingsley dropped a handful of Floo powder, barking “The Order, Wiltshire,” before the roaring emerald flames swallowed him once more.

“Well, off we go,” said Ron, stepping into the grate.

One by one they disappeared, and Hermione realised it was only she and Draco left. Without looking at him she hopped into the fireplace, stating her destination and dropping the powder to her feet. She caught a quick glimpse of sliver piercing into her as the fire engulfed her.

........

Draco had always hated using the Floo network. He especially disliked the sensation of being squeezed through a pipe at a thousand miles an hour, and that he always ended up filthy at the other end.

Walking out of the fire place at the Order safe house, he was about to scourgify himself when an Auror waiting for him slapped a leather band on his wrist before he even had time to take in his dingy surrounding.

“Hey!” He jumped back in shock. “What’s this for?”

He recognised the young Auror who had been present at the trials before his return to Hogwarts. He couldn’t have been more than two or three above him at Hogwarts, a burly Ravenclaw by the name of Mordecai Berrycloth. He winced, both from the sudden burn from the leather cuff and at the memory of the one game where Ravenclaw had beat Slytherin in Draco’s time as their seeker, their victory solely due to Berrycloth’s aptitude with a bludger.

Auror Berrycloth’s eyes widened apologetically, and he took an involuntary step away from Draco.

“No hard feeling hey mate? Orders from above you know. It’s to stop you from performing any magic when we get to the Manor. It can only be removed when you get back to Hogwarts. Can’t have you running away from us now.”

Draco nodded glumly. He should have seen this coming. He felt Luna pay his arm sympathetically, and he noticed Hermione watching him thoughtfully from across the room.

They were ushered into pairs, none of them needing directions now. Luna insisted on apparating with Draco, whispering a quick "scourgify", much to his relief. Hermione went with Ron, and Draco felt a strange pang in his stomach as he saw her hand slip into the flaming haired mans as Luna whisked him away.

……….

Swallowing the nauseating discomfort that always came with apparition, Draco opened his eyes. Above him loomed the magnificent Manor, it’s diamond-paned windows gleaming in the morning sun. Even with half of the turrets destroyed and the garden overgrown and intimidating, it was a sight to behold. Upon taking a step forward, he froze, glued to the spot. Impending dread filled him to his core, memories of pain becoming almost overwhelming. Draco shook the fear away, confused. He knew he was apprehensive returning to his old home, but this level of fear was unfounded. As realisation hit him, he looked behind him to where Luna had dropped to her knees, all trace of light and hope gone from her stricken face as her wide eyes gleaned fearfully at the imposing building.

Draco gently knelt before her, and tentatively took her in his arms, all the while trying to block the intense feeling of doom whirling inside him. It was not his fear after all.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her golden hair. “I never should have let you come here. Let’s just go, they don’t need us really.”

He felt her head tilt up and he looked down at her.

“We need to be here Draco,” Luna sniffed. “Those men… those monsters, they’re still out there, most of them. How could we live with ourselves if we didn’t help bring them to justice? And if we find nothing, at least we can just prove to ourselves that this is just a building, that no longer holds any power over us.”

Draco drew back a little and sat beside her, his arm still holding a tight grip over her shoulders.

“I know you’re right,” he murmured sadly. “I just wish we could have done it away from this place.”

“Mmm.” She hummed, regaining some of her composure. “But then, who knows this houses secrets better than us?”

……….

From a distance, Hermione watched the exchange between the unlikely companions. Neville had explained to her the unusual magic Luna had performed during her imprisonment, so she understood the change in the Draco, at least where Luna was concerned. But she couldn’t pretend it was strange, to see him acting so tenderly to another human, let alone how he was acting whenever she ended up alone with him. She shook her head trying to clear her thoughts, running her hands through her hair as she did so. She carefully made her way over to the pair. It struck her how similar they were, both with their shining blonde hair and silvery eyes. They could have been siblings. She thought again of her dragon.

“Um, Kingsley is ready for us now.” She wished she could sit right there on the ground with them, and refuse to enter the daunting building.

Luna sighed, her protuberant eyes glancing apprehensively at the manor. Taking a shaky breath, she stood, pulling Draco with her. Without a word, as if in a dreamy haze once more, she moved passed Hermione and Draco and walked through the iron gates.

Draco motioned to Hermione, “shall we?”

Hermione nodded and they joined the Harry Ron and Luna and the 5 aurors accompanying them to the foreboding steps of Malfoy Manor.

………………

**the Letters to No One**

Malfoy Manor was in ruins. Where there was once a magnificent carpet in the entrance hall there was only ash and cinders. The ancient portraits of Malfoy heirs were singed and unoccupied. The group of young witches and wizards stepped tentatively over the threshold. Kingsley waved them forward.

“I would recommend we spread out, in order to cover as much ground before you return to the school.”

They nodded back at him somberly. Hermione watched as Luna linked Draco’s arm in hers and lead him into a room ahead of them. She slowly followed them before coming to a halt in the doorway in which they had just disappeared. The drawing room. The great stone table in the center was broken at one end, and the chandelier that Dobby had brought down almost upon Bellatrix Lestrange was still lying shattered beside it. The ornate marble mantel piece was blackened and cracked, and the gilded mirror above it had long since seen its glass smash through the room. As she stared at the mantle, it seemed to change before her eyes, no longer dirty and broken but gleaming white in the light of a raging fire that was long put out. She remembered the feeling of the cold stone beneath her as she lay writhing and screaming in agony as Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her after she had found the Sword of Gryffindor in their possession. Her hand clamped over her forearm as it seared to life, burning anew.

Hermione jumped as she felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder. Turning and seeing Ron’s gentle, remorse filled eyes, she buried her head in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. Realizing they were the only ones in the room now, she let out the small sob that had been fighting its way to the surface.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Ron whispered, petting her hair. There was anguish in his voice. “None of them bastards will ever hurt you again.”

Hermione raises her eyes to his. She knew he had so much guilt still in him that he and Harry had been dragged away from her, leaving her in the clutches of the Death Eaters. She had rarely thought of it, thanking Merlin they were able to get back to her before she was killed. And even if she had been, they both knew it was Harry that needed to go on, no matter the cost.

Ron grasped both of her hands in his and kissed them, a gesture that spoke a thousand promises. How they loved one another. Not the kind of love they both thought would blossom from their kiss outside the Room of Requirement before the search for Ravenclaws diadem. They both found it laughable when they spoke of the moment in the weeks after the Battle, and left it as a happy memory in the midst of so much horror. No, they were more soul mates, with a love that ran much deeper. Mates being the operative word. There would never be a closer friendship than that of Hermione, Ron and of course, Harry.

Moving away from Ron slightly, Hermione felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, as if they were being watched. Glancing around sharply, she thought she just missed a flash of blonde disappear down the stairs to her left. Ron followed her gaze and drew a sharp intake of breath as he registered the open door, and she realised it led to the dungeons where Ron and Harry had found Luna.

“I don’t want to go down there,” He muttered, grateful to see Hermione nod in agreement.

“Let’s look upstairs.”

And so they went up the once grand marble staircase to begin their search.

………………..

Time passed painfully slow as the group made their way through the house, each as unsure as the rest as to what they were meant to be searching for. The place really had been ransacked, either by the Ministry or by shady Death Eater defectors shortly after the end of the Battle.

Hermione and Ron had found nothing exciting or particularly frightening on the first floor, so when they reached the second, they split up, taking one side of the large passageway each.

In the first room, Hermione noticed a feminine touch to the decor, looking over the ornate dresser and ivory framed mirror. She picked up a glass bottle of lavender liquid tentatively, worried it may be a deathly poison or some other sinister substance. Sniffing gingerly, she let out a small laugh of relief as she realized it was just perfume. This must have been Narcissa Malfoy’s bedchamber. It might have been beautiful once, had it not been for the fact that every piece of furniture had been damaged, the mattress on the colossal bed ravaged apart.

Knowing she would not find anything of use in there, Hermione moved on to the next room, shrugging at Ron in the hall as he did the same opposite her.

The next room was completely different in how the previous occupant had decorated. It was vaguely masculine but still pleasant to her, or it would have been, in its prime. There were some parts of the walls that were untouched by the ash and dust that seemed to coat every surface, revealing handsome emerald walls. It had a large bookcase spanning the length of the wall, and to Hermione’s relief, the tomes appeared unmolested. Wishing she had time to inspect them all further, she sighed and turned to leave the room when a glint caught her eye. At first she thought it was the glittering diamond window, but as she moved closer to the recess she saw something shining through a tiny hole in the carved wooden bench below. She glanced at the door as she heard Ron entering the next room across the hall, and quietly lifted the seat. Inside was a simple back leather folder, like one she might have seen being carried by a student or teacher at Hogwarts. The glean that had caught her eye was the shining chain of silken gold that was tied around it. She lifted it out and closed the lid, sitting down on top of it with her back to the window.

_D.L.M,_ she read. Someone’s initials?

She unwound the soft threaded gold, ignoring the strange jolt of energy that shot through her as she touched it, and placed it beside her, opening the folder. To her surprise it was full of parchment, at different stages of yellowing, bearing scrawled letters neither addressed to nor signed by anyone. She flicked through the pages, looking for any word or phrase that would jump out at her.

_Granger…_

She paused, and turned the page back gently.

_I used the Densaugeo hex on that stupid muggle Granger today. I wasn’t even meant to hit her, she just got in the way of Potter. It was his fault anyway, trying to hex me like that. All because I called his girlfriend a mudblood-_

Hermione snapped the folder shut, and it dawned on her what she had sitting in her lap. Turning to the window she blinked away tears that were threatening to fall, recalling what Luna had told her about Blibbering Humdingers. She glanced down at the over-grown gardens and saw Draco and Luna sat on a marble wall below, laughing lightly as if sharing a joke. Hermione’s eyes widened as she saw his head tilt upwards and catch sight of her in the window. In a flash he had bolted upright and sprinted to the house, disappearing from view. Panicked, Hermione tapped her wand at the folder, muttering “ _reducio,”_ and she stuffed in into her bra, bunching up the gold thread tightly in her hand.

Knowing she didn’t want to be caught by Draco in what she now knew must be his bedroom, she raced out the door and down the stairs, almost crashing into him halfway. He had his hand on the banister, preventing her from descending further, his face red from exertion. As fire met ice, they were both panting slightly, not altogether due to their haste. With her face mere inches from his, she inhaled a faint smell of mint.

“ Granger,” he said in a low tone, “whatever you think you found in there, please just give it- “

“Hermione is everything okay?”

Hermione flooded with relief as Ron stepped onto the stairs behind her, his wand in his hand cautiously.

“Yes of course Ronald. Draco here was just coming to fetch us weren’t you, Draco?” She watched as his eyes widened at her lie, silently pleading with her. She could almost hear his heart beating.

“Um, yes,” Draco stammered, tearing his eyes from hers and shifting back slightly towards the railing, giving her room to pass. “I think the Minister is ready to call it a day, they’re meeting in the Entrance Hall.”

Hermione took one last look at Draco’s troubled face, his teeth lightly worrying his lips, and made her way passed him and down the steps, trying her hardest not to run.

………….

Back at the castle, Draco was furious with himself. After they had arrived to McGonagall’s office, he had ensured Luna was safely returned to Neville’s care and he tore away to his dormitory that he shared with the three Gryffindor men.

How could he have been so foolish? As it was, he was astonished, and a little more than relieved, that the folder that contained his deepest thoughts hadn’t fallen into the hands of Death Eaters under the Dark Lord’s occupation of his former home. If it had, he and his family would surely have been killed for his pondering.

But still, it filled him with no amount of comfort that they may now be in Hermione’s possession. Thinking back, there was nothing in there that could incriminate him legally, but he could feel the heat creep up his neck as he thought of the girl reading the many entries that he had written about her. Ripping the curtains of his four-poster bed closed and sinking back into the plush feather pillow, he wished he could evaporate. He put the crystal dragon once again beside his head, closed his eyes and imagined sweet smelling breath on his face, a feeling of longing in the pit of his stomach, his dreams filled with glowing crystal and prophecies.

…………..

Hermione had left Harry and Ron in the common room where they were irritably telling Neville and Ginny what a waste of a day they'd had.

She tried not to think of the folder now hidden in her coin purse as she filled the bath in her dormitory bathroom. Desperate for a few solitary moments, she sank into the steaming mint-scented water with a groan, feeling the stress of their excursion washing away. Fresh mint always made her feel relaxed, as it was a familiar smell that reminded her of her parents dental surgery. She pushed thoughts of her mother and father away, not daring to dwell on the matter lest she were to break down in tears.

Leaning back with her eyes shut, she breathed in the scent deeply and swirling silver eyes and soft white-blonde hair filled her mind. A tall, handsome man, kneeling before her with hope on his face...

Eyes snapping open, Hermione shot up out of the bath. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her small frame, she angrily pondered what on earth could be wrong with her. Why was she so preoccupied on that loathsome man?

_Okay,_ she thought. _He’s not so loathsome._

She had to admit to herself that he had actually become quite handsome, especially in the absence of that insufferable smirk that had plagued her previous school years.

Shaking her head at herself, she quickly dressed into her soft cotton pajamas and drew the curtains around her bed, anticipation building within her as she pulled the black folder from her purse and returned it to its normal size. 

With a large amount of curiosity and an even larger amount of guilt, she wrapped the gold thread around her fingers and began to flick once again through the parchment. She soon realized they were in some sort of order, old to new by the looks of the scrawled handwriting slowly turning to flawless script as the pages progressed. Many of the entries were mindless complaining about some conflict Draco had had with Harry, or that no matter how hard he tried nothing he did seemed to be good enough for his father. She stopped when she again came across the one where he talked about how, in their fourth year after taunting Harry and misfiring a hex and hit her instead, he had made her teeth grow at an alarming and painful rate, and had called her a mudblood as he had done many times before. She sighed at the memory, and felt the now familiar twinge in her forearm where Draco’s aunt had carved the same word into it. She hurried along, pausing again when she noted his reference to the Yule Ball, and came across her name again.

_The Yule Ball was better than I thought it would be. I went with Pansy of course, even though I know she wanted to go with Theo. She looked lovely as usual but I wish our parents would let up on the idea that we will be married as soon as we leave this bloody school. She kissed me tonight, and neither of us could keep from laughing. It’s ridiculous that in four years they expect us to be on our way to producing little brats. She’s like a sister to me._

_She mentioned Granger at the ball, how pretty she looked. I was never going to admit I agreed with her, but now I can’t stop thinking how in Merlin’s name she got all that hair to stick on top of her head. And she really did look lovelier than all the other Hogwarts girls, maybe even better than Fluer Delacour…_

Hermione paused, suddenly unsure if these scribblings did in fact belong to the Draco Abraxas Malfoy she knew. Surely not, she scoffed, and rummaged through pages to another letter.

_He’s punishing us. He wants my father to suffer for not retrieving the prophecy orb. Surely, he doesn’t ever expect me to succeed in killing Albus Dumbledore. That must be the punishment, father failed him and I am to die for it. If there was any way we could get out of this, I’d go straight to Dumbledore now. But with Snape lurking around I’d never get my mother out of the manor before he killed her. And he would always find us anyway, now I’ve got the mark. Maybe I could get her out first, send her to Grimmauld Place, even if it meant I could never see her again-_

Hermione backtracked. Grimmauld Place? Surely, he didn’t mean the same house that had once belonged to his mother’s cousin Sirius, that now belonged to Harry. Did this mean that the other side knew about the Order safe house all along?

Sighing in frustration at a whole new mystery, she stuffed the letters under her mattress and slammed her body down onto the bed. Exhausted, and left with more questions than answers, she fell into a fitful sleep, full of dark marks, diamond windows and spearmint scented breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave some love in the review section and read on!
> 
> Sophia x


	6. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Groaning, Draco ran his hands over his face as he turned the corner into the library, crashing in a petit form as he did. He jerked his eyes open at the impact, but his vision was obscured by masses of auburn curls.

Hunger

Hallowe'en, a rather muted affair, came and went. Over the next four days, Draco tried his best to approach Hermione to find out if she really had found his secret folder. The witch proved to be as elusive as she was bright, for every time he passed her in the halls, she gave a wide birth so that gaggles of younger students would separate them, keeping her eyes low. She arrived daringly close to late to every class, and made her escape the minute the hour was up. She even left the common room before most students were out of bed every morning, only securing her place at meal times when the Gryffindor table was already full. During his free hours which he knew he shared with her, Draco combed through the castle in his search, and by Friday evening there was no doubt in his mind that Hermione had the folder, and hated him for his younger selfs thoughts.

He recalled his conversation with Luna on Tuesday morning as they walked around the grounds before lunch. She had asked him who he had been thinking of when he had gone to bed after they had returned from the Manor, as she had felt extremely hot and confused all of a sudden, but not altogether unhappy. Fighting extreme embarrassment, and wishing not for the first time that they weren’t connected so fully, he told her of his struggle to get Hermione out of his mind since their collision on Platform 9 and 3/4 the day they returned to Hogwarts. He didn’t need to tell her how conflicted he was about it, she already knew. He also told her of his folder, that he was sure was in Hermione’s possession. Draco decided to keep the matter of the crystal dragon, as well as his interaction with Professor Trelawney and her advice, to himself for the time being. 

In true Luna style, she had blamed the Nargles for his inability to concentrate, and airily recommended he speak to Hermione as soon as possible and quite simply ask her.

So that is what he planned to do.

But as he walked from the Great Hall after dinner on Friday, having seen Hermione rush out half an hour before, he felt defeated. She had evaded him at every turn. What did he even expect to happen? Surely she had read all of the entries by now, though he didn’t think she was cold enough to pass them on. As for his other thoughts of yearning to touch her soft skin, run a finger over her full lips...

Groaning, Draco ran his hands over his face as he turned the corner into the library, crashing into a petite form as he did. He jerked his eyes open at the impact, but his vision was obscured by masses of auburn curls.

He wasn’t quick enough to catch them both this time. They crashed to the floor, books falling about them with a thud and parchment flying in the air. Draco winced as the body landed on him, leaving him winded. He groaned at the pain in his ribs.

“Oh Merlin, Malfoy I’m sorry!”

He opened his eyes where he lay and saw two large umber orbs staring wide eyed at him, his nose inches from hers.

“Hermione,” he winced in greeting. “If you want to spend more time with me you really, ahhh, you really should just ask. We might avoid more injury that way.”

Hermione pushed herself up from his chest, and Draco couldn’t stop a sharp intake of breath for the spilt second she was straddling him before she clambered to the side. He was still a teenage boy after all. He pushed himself up so he was sitting and saw her pink cheeks, which he was sure just mirrored his own.

“Spend time with you? Don’t be- I don’t, I mean, don’t be ridiculous!” Hermione exclaimed breathlessly.

Draco let out a low chuckle, forgetting for a moment the main reason he had been trying to track her down.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” She asked him, and he knew she was trying to distract them both from the awkwardness of the situation.

Draco looked at her for a moment, weighing up his options. He decided to be honest.

“Looking for you actually.”

“Me?” Hermione did her best to feign surprise, but he could see straight through her efforts.

“I know you found the folder in my bed chamber at the Manor,” he admitted unhappily. “I know you probably think worse of me now than you already did, but you have to understand. They were the stupid thoughts of a very stupid, ignorant boy. And then the thoughts of a very frightened and lost boy. I don't know what is going on in my head right now, but i need you to know that.”

He kept his eyes fixed on a spot of stone slightly darker than the rest just beside her foot.

“I don’t think worse of you,” Hermione spoke softly now. Draco raised his eyes to search her face hopefully as she continued. “Some of it, yes I could definitely see you as the product of your creation, with pride in your heritage and unfavourable view of muggleborns. I’m not naive, I understand how your mind was shaped from such a young age. What chance did you really have? I also read how you warned Harry, Ron and I from being out and about in that clearing after the quidditch cup, because mudbloods like me weren’t safe. I read how frightened you were when you learned that your father had been called to Voldemort’s side when he returned. How you thought of every possible way to get out of the impossible assignment that he had set for you, knowing you could never succeed. You’re not a bad man, and you weren’t a bad child. You did the best, and more, with what you had.”

Draco stared at her as she took a breath, looking at him with such warmth and understanding his heart could burst. He hadn’t noticed his body moving closer to her as she spoke, once again finding his face inches from hers. His eyes grazed the slight point on her chin, her soft rosy lips parting slightly as her breathing hitched. He unconsciously raised a hand and wove a loose curl through his fingers. As he finally raises his eyes to hers, he barely registered the hunger in them that matched his own before he felt Hermione’s lips come crashing up to his own. Draco felt himself freeze for half a second before responding enthusiastically. Winding one hand hand around her waist and one into the hair at the nape of her neck, he pulled her up so the were both kneeling, closing the space between their bodies and deepening the kiss.

They hadn’t heard footsteps approaching when a voice boomed down the corridor.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Hermione jerked backwards so violently that Draco was sent tumbling onto his backside. He watched as she looked at him with a stupefied expression and saw her eyes widen still when she noticed Ron standing before them, his face as red as his hair.

“Oh no, oh Merlin, oh no.” She stammered.

With that, she took off down the corridor and vanished from view.

Draco felt guilty as he looked up at the flame haired youth who looked like he would soon combust if he didn’t take a breath.

“Weasley..” Draco licked his lips nervously, his eyes flitting to Ron’s hand inching towards the wand in his jean pocket.

Ron took half a step forward and raised a pointed hand at Draco. He opened his mouth as if to speak, or yell, but seemed to think better of it. Running a hand through his wavy hair, he turned and stormed off after Hermione.

Draco slumped against the wall in relief. His head was far too clouded to protect himself against any hex Ron might have thrown at him.

He could barely believe what had just transpired, and couldn’t help but wonder if he had made the situation a whole lot more complicated.

…………………..

Misunderstanding

Hermione stared at the ceiling of her four-poster bed, the curtains magically sealed shut so her friends and roommates could not force her from her scrambled thoughts. Sleep had evaded her and it was now Saturday morning. She knew this only because she had heard the other three girls bustling around the room and bathroom preparing for the start of the weekend. More than once, Ginny, and then Luna, had knocked gently on the force field around the drapes asking if everything was okay, or if she wanted anything brought to her from the breakfast table. Hermione felt like it took all the strength she could muster to murmur a soft “no, I’m fine.”

They would find out soon enough what she had done, she thought, mortified.

She had escaped to the safety of the girl’s dormitory before Ron had had a chance to catch up to her, feeling that she couldn’t bare to feel his wrath or deal with any accusations he may throw her way.

“Ugh,” Hermione groaned, covering her face with her quilt.

She had let that git get inside her head, and _she_ had kissed _him!_ His face, which she couldn’t deny was rather beautiful, had been ever present in the back of her mind for almost two weeks, and reading his diary so full of growth, despair and remorse had made her feel as close to him as she was to Harry, or even Ron. But even as she held his life documented in her weary hands, she had tried hard to remind herself that he was still, at the end of it all, Draco Malfoy, the son of a notorious, albeit cowardly Death Eater. He set a growth spell on her teeth for heaven’s sake! Hermione had resigned herself to keep her distance, possibly even destroy the folder and its contents, and never breathe a word of it to anyone.

Her resolve had come crashing down around her in burning pieces as she had looked up into Draco’s intoxicating deep silver eyes and felt his hand weave itself through her hair.

Hermione shivered, allowing herself, just for a moment, to relive the kiss. She was loath to admit that she was more than eager to repeat the experience. Jolted out of her reverie, she heard another soft _tap tap tap_ on the solidified curtains.

"Hermione?" came Ginny's voice again.  


"I really can't talk right now, Ginny." Hermione's voice was barely audible.

"I just want you to know that whatever is going on, you can tell me okay? I'm here, whatever it is. And, um, Hermione? I saw that Draco had the dragon that you made... I won't tell anyone, I just hope you're okay..."

Hermione's breathing increased, and she couldn't bring herself to say a word. A few seconds later she heard the door open and close, and she groaned in relief, until she heard another tap.

"Ginny, please, just leave it!"

“Hermione?”

“RON?” she shrieked. With a wave of her wand her curtains flew open. “How.. what.. how in Merlins name did you get in here?”

Ron chuckled awkwardly, perching himself on the end of her bed.

“We’re adults, you know. Fought in a war and everything. Ginny let me in, said she was worried she hadn’t seen you. Us boys still can’t just wander in the girl’s dorms whenever we like, but if someone that lives in the room gives us permission and enters with us…” He waved his hands in the air as if to say 'here I am'.

Hermione pondered this new information, flabbergasted she hadn’t known of it before. She made a mental note to re-read Hogwarts, a History. It sure opened up a lot of opportunity for some bad behaviour. She blushed, and averted her eyes. Ron carefully put his hand on hers, as if worried that any sudden movement would send her fleeing for the hills.

“Hermione,” he said gently. “Whatever happened, you know you can talk to me about it. I mean, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if he forced you, if he’s harassing you..”

“Oh Merlin Ron, no!” Hermione’s eyes widened, realising what he was getting at. “Nothing like that at all! Actually, um, I…”

“What, Hermione?” Ron urged her on quietly.

“I kissed him,” she mumbled in a small voice, covering her face with her hair so she couldn’t meet his eyes, weary of the anger she would surely see there.

She felt him shift away from her a little.

“Oh,” he said simply.

“Oh?” Hermione peeked at him through her long tresses.

He was looking at her, his expression thoughtful if not altogether happy.

After a moment that seemed to span a lifetime Ron spoke.

“So.. so are you two a thing then?” he asked, his tone thick.

Hermione shook her head aggressively.

“Oh Lord no. It was just getting caught up in a moment. Something inside me just told me to do it and, well, I really couldn’t even tell you what it meant.”

“Do you like him? Have you been spending time with him?” Ron was curious now. He had never noticed an attraction between his friend and the smarmy git before. As far as he knew, before the war Draco had been as insufferable to Hermione as he had been to him and Harry. But even he couldn’t deny how the war had changed the people around him. Maybe the same was true for the Slytherin.

Hermione weighed up her options before responding. She sighed, knowing she would never be able to lie to her flame-haired friend.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. Before she knew it, words were pouring from her mouth, recounting the various times Draco had saved her from injury, the hold the vision of him seemed to have over her mind, and, lastly, the deep remorse and conflict she could feel emanating from him whenever they spoke. She was careful to skip around the part where she had found his diary, and that she now knew his thoughts at a much more intimate level, and the part where she had accidentally made a dragon with Draco's eyes.

Ron considered her words, going over everything he knew about his friend. He may have been painfully ignorant to the ways of women in the years before, but he was quite confident now in reading Hermione’s emotions. He could tell she did like Draco, and very much so. The thought bothered him slightly more than he wanted to admit.

“If he came back to the dorm last night, it must have been after we all were asleep. And he was gone again this morning,” he said.

“Ugh, of course,” muttered Hermione. “He’s probably mortified he got caught snogging a mudblood,” she added bitterly.

Ron shook his head. “I don’t think so. I was ready to give him a right bollocking for touching you, but the look on his face, he looked like he just wanted to chase after you.” 

Hermione looked at him, surprised. She hadn’t even considered the chance that the two men would have gotten into a fight over her.

She felt relief wash over her that they hadn’t.

“So, what should I do Ronald?” she asked anxiously almost hoping he would tell her that pursuing Draco would be a terrible idea, and she should absolutely not go there.

Ron could see the turmoil in her, and moved to the top of the bed and shifted so his arm was around her shoulders and her head was resting under his chin.

“You’ve got to decide that for yourself, Hermione,” he said through her hair. “Merlin knows we’ve all been through a lot, that git included. I’m not going to stand in the way of something that might make you happy. I’m not saying it’ll all be pygmy puffs and unicorns, and there will be plenty of people who will put their two sickles in, but why not see how it goes?”

Hermione turned her head into Ron’s chest with tears in her eyes as she thought how much he cared for her.

“If he hurts you though, I absolutely will not hesitate to turn him back into a ferret.”

Hermione drew back, slapping him lightly on the arm as she laughed her first true laugh in weeks.

“Come on,” Ron said, pulling her by the hand from the bed. “The common room’s been empty all morning. Let’s call Winky and see if she won't bring us some breakfast.”

……………………..

Draco was sitting in the common room on Saturday morning, feeling secure that he wouldn’t be ambushed by Ernie and his posse of angry Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws on the sunny September day. He kept going over the events of the previous evening in his mind, feeling his heart lift every time he remembered that Hermione had kissed _him,_ and then felt it drop again as the image of her hurtling away from him flashed behind his eyes. His thoughts going around in circles, he leant back in the armchair and tried to imagine what could possibly come from it. He recalled Ron Weasleys flushed face and frowned, remembering that he had once thought they were an item. Were they together, after all? He groaned, thinking again how complicated the situation may be. But then he was certain that Hermione wasn’t the sort of girl to cheat on a partner, brave, loyal, true and all that Gryffindor nonsense.

He settled again in the comfy chair that had turned an handsome emerald green when he had sat down, and began hatching a plan in his mind. He would have to approach her somehow, maybe in the library after classes. Merlin, maybe he would just march straight up to her when she was with her friends and just ask her to accompany him on a walk…

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by two voices, one male and one female, came laughing and joking down the stairs to his left. One of the girls dormitories.

He looked up and his heart felt as if it would shatter. Hermione halted, her left foot still on the last stair as her eyes widened at the sight of him. Ron nearly crashed into her, swaying back on the steps.

Draco took in their tousled hair and creased clothing and felt hurt building inside him. He stood abruptly and turned away from them, blinking furiously. He barely heard Hermione desperately cry “Draco!” before he had made his escape through the portrait hole.

……………..

“Ron!” Hermione turned shell shocked to her friend. “He must think… you know what he must think! That we were up there, doing… Oh Merlin, Ron!”

“Shh Hermione calm down!” Ron gripped her shoulders and led her to the sofa. “He obviously doesn’t know what he saw, I’m sure you can go and find him, explain.” Even as he said it she heard the uncertainty in his voice.

“You’re right.” Hermione jumped up and started pacing. “I’ll find him, explain and we can just go from there, right? I mean, nothing was probably going come from that stupid kiss anyway, so what’s the harm in trying?”

She started marching purposefully to the portrait hole when she heard Ron chortling behind her.

“What, Ronald?!” she turned on him, eyes blazing.

“You might want to go and get dressed before you head out there,” he said, looking her up and down with a good-natured glint in his eyes.

Hermione glanced down at herself, gasping as she realised that she was wearing nothing but pajama shorts and a camisole that left very little to the imagination. It was no wonder Draco had stormed out the way he did.

“Oh no,” she squeaked, and raced back up to her dormitory. She pulled on a loose orange cotton sweater and dark blue jeans and head out of the common room, barely waving at Ron as she passed.

…………….

Draco had let his legs have a mind of their own, vaguely noticing that they had carried him to the Astronomy tower before he slumped down on a bench on the open balcony feeling defeated. He could feel tears pricking the corner of his eyes and he wiped them away in embarrassment. Of course she couldn’t really be interested in him, he thought angrily. He was nothing but a worthless Death Eater.

He heard footsteps and jumped up in anticipation as Hermione’s small frame entered the tower balcony.

_What a beautiful colour that is on her…_

He shook his head, chastising himself in his mind.

“What are you doing here? Want to rub it in that you’re not available? Was it all a joke to you?” he found himself asking, desperate for her to put him out of his misery and confirm his fears.

“Not available?” Hermione’s eyes widened with guilt. “Me and Ron, he’s my oldest friend. You know that.”

“Sure, everyone knew you would end up together,” Draco said glumly, looking down at the stone ground.

“That’s not what I mean, maybe we thought we would be together once, but that was a long time ago.”

Draco looked up at her earnest face, trying to decipher her words. He tried to quell the hope rising in him, involuntarily taking a step towards the girl.

“So…” Draco’s thoughts were becoming clouded. “You and Weasley, you’re not together?”

Hermione let out a small laugh, and took a step forward of her own, bringing herself into the bright sun. Draco thought his heart would stop as the light danced off of her still-messy curls, throwing off hues of red that he hadn’t noticed before.

_Beautiful,_ he thought.

“No, we’re not. Like I said, he’s one of my closest friends.”

They had both closed the gap between them, so if they moved another inch their bodies would be touching. Draco rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes as he breathed in her sweet, subtly floral scent, feeling himself coming undone. The air around them shifted, as if two magnets that were being forced apart had finally managed to collide.

He shyly lifted her chin, their lip meeting once more.


	7. The Astronomy Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to make a coherent sound, Harry slumped back into the sofa, still staring at Hermione in bewilderment. Ginny patted his knee, the shock on her own face now mixed with amusement.   
> Ron leaned forward, raising his bottle of butterbeer slightly.  
> “To house unity then.” He downed his bottle and sat back.   
> Hermione smiled gratefully at him as she caught his wink, slowly feeling relief flood her body. Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

The Astronomy Tower

Hermione sat on the wrought iron bench in the Astronomy Tower. A small smile played on her lips as she felt the arm shift beside her, she looked at Draco sat beside her, both of them giddy with elation. After they had untangled themselves from their embrace, Draco had led her to the open air and they had sat in a comfortable silence. As he met her eyes with his, she saw the joy in them fade slightly.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, afraid that he was regretting the moment they had shared a few minutes before. She started to reach her hand out to his, before dropping it limply back in her lap.

“Nothing really,” he murmured, looking out over the ramparts of the tower. A solemn expression flooded his features.

“You’re having second thoughts aren’t you?” Hermione looked away from Draco, blinking fast to quell the tears that threatened to fall.

“No! Hermione, it’s not that at all!”

Draco moved so he was kneeling in front of her, bundling her hands in his on her lap.

“Look at me?” He pleaded with her and placed his palm on her cheek, his fingers wound slightly into her hair.

Hermione gasped lightly as she looked down at him, his silver eyes drinking her in. She gulped, and it was all she could do to keep her hands firmly in her lap.

“I don’t know what this is, and honestly it terrifies me,” Draco whispered. “The last couple of months I've thought of nothing but you. You’re so good, you’ve done so much for the world. And I’m among the lowest of the Wizarding race. I couldn’t possibly ever be good enough for you.”

Hermione leaned forward and rested her forehead on his, smiling as their noses touched.

“You know,” she said, “not too long ago our places were reversed. I bet even in your wildest dreams you never imagined you’d one day be sitting here with me.”

“There were so many times I thought of you,” he breathed. “Of touching your hair, your skin, even kissing you...”

His thumb traced her bottom lip as he spoke, and he sat back on his heels, fearing he would not be able to control himself if he didn’t put some distance between them.

“You thought of kissing me? Before the war?” Hermione’s voice was dripping with mirth and disbelief. “What got you all steamy the most? Was it when I accused you of buying your way onto the Slytherin quidditch team? Or when I punched you in the face?”

“Oh definitely when you punched me in the face,” Draco said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again, a frown playing on her face as she studied the man in front of her.

“What are you thinking?”

“Just back to the night of the quidditch World Cup before our first year,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “I’d never even thought of it until I read about it in your diary. I just remembered being mad at you for saying I had a big, bushy head. You wrote about how you had felt like you had to come and warn us, warn me, about getting somewhere safe. But you didn’t elaborate in your writing about why you did it.”

“I had come to find you.” Draco’s face was dark as he remembered the night, and the muggles his father had helped capture. “I had overheard another Death Eater, Walden Macnair, telling my father about how he had seen Potter at the match, and about the girl he had with him. You.” He looked at her as though he would be sick, swallowing before he continued. “My father told him you were a... a mudblood, thinking it might deter his attention from you somewhat, and how it filled him with shame that I couldn’t keep up with you in school. I don’t don’t why he was so hung up on that, I could barely keep ahead of Crabbe and Goyle in some classes. Anyway, Macnair had this sick look on his face, and told my father how he preferred mudbloods and muggles to the real witches, especially the young ones.”

Draco paused to gauge Hermione’s expression for a moment. Trying her hardest to hold a blank stare and to swallow the bile that was rising from her stomach, she nodded for him to continue.

“It always filled my father with disgust whenever Macnair spoke of the girls he had killed, but he would never have spoken up to him or anyone about it then. My father told him it was a shame that Potter and his friends would most likely be far too well protected for him to get a chance at you. But I had to make sure. When I saw you and Potter and Weasley walking out to the trees, knowing they were coming, I was terrified. If they found you, those two would have been killed before you could even blink, and they would have done so much more than torture you.”

Draco stopped there and pushed up away from the ground and Hermione, filled with hatred for himself, and the world he had been dragged up in. He walked to the railing and buried his face in his hands.

“He was at the manor almost constantly during the war.”

Hermione could only just hear him from where she sat, but she could hear the despair in his voice.

“Some of them, like him, they were savages, Hermione. Girls growing up in their families, they never had a chance. You know Luna was there for more than five months? The things they did, what she went through in my own home, and I could never stop them.. I should have stopped them.”

Draco was crying freely now, so full of anguish that Hermione felt her heart break. She moved over to where he had fallen to his knees with his hands gripping his hair and knelt beside him. Slowly, so as not to alarm him in his state, she moved his body against hers, her arms wrapping tightly around him. She stroked his hair as his emotions wracked out of him in heart wrenching sobs, burying his face in her breast. Hermione felt her own tears falling thickly as they sat there.

..................

Hermione watched as the afternoon sun moved beyond the horizon, spreading rays of brilliant red and orange through the glass ceiling. The pair were laying back on the stone floor of the tower where Draco had long since fallen asleep in the warmth of her embrace, his head cradled into her shoulder like a child’s and his arm wrapped securely around her slim waist. She wanted nothing more than to stay there holding him, but she feared her friends would soon become worried, if they were not already.

She slowly brought her fingers to Draco’s alabaster cheek, stroking it gently. His silver eyes flickered open and met her umber orbs, filling with surprise, then embarrassment, then finally settling on relief. He propped himself up onto his arms so he was leaning over her slightly, and seemed to drink in her presence.

“Hello,” he said, his voice husky with sleep.

“Hello,”Hermione whispered back.

Draco leaned in, a question in his hungry eyes. In answer, Hermione tilted upwards and met his lips with hers.

He shyly moved his hand up her waist until it settled on her ribs, deepening the kiss when he heard a satisfied groan from the woman below him.

Letting out a strangled moan, he sat up, pulling Hermione up with him until she was positioned on his lap, her thighs either side of his waist. She moved from his lips and lay butterfly kisses along his jaw and below his ear. There was a desperation between them, like a storm that had finally broken through the clouds.

Feeling like he might explode, he squeezed one hand on her thigh and one around her waist, moving up the back of her sweater, his lips finding hers again.

“Draco..” Hermione breathes against his mouth. “Draco, we need..” kiss “we need to slow down...” kiss.

Drawing back slightly, she gave him an opening to lay heart stopping kisses down her neck.

She pulled his face to hers so she was speaking against his lips again, whispering. “I have no intention of losing my virginity in the Astronomy Tower.”

Draco’s eyes went wide in surprise, his longing almost tearing him apart. It took all of his strength to pause their advances, an effort he could see mirrored in her lust filled eyes. Groaning, he pulled her off of his lap and helped her to stand.

With his arm around her shoulders and leading her to the exit, he murmured into her ear, “neither do I,” laughing at the look of shock on her face at his revelation.

...........

They walked slowly to the 7th years common room, in order to give themselves time to regain their full composure and tidy themselves up. There were also many stolen kisses in hidden alcoves and behind tapestries along the way, forcing them to begin the process again. So distracted by their newfound need for each other, they hadn’t even thought about what the other 7th years would think before they stumbled through the portrait hole together. Frozen to the spot, Draco and Hermione were faced with almost half of their entire year group, and every one of their friends, staring shell shocked and confused at the pair. Except for Ginny. And Ron, of course, who sat knowingly beside Harry, smug that for once he was the one in on the secret.

“Well.. uh...” Draco looked wide eyed at Hermione. “See you tomorrow then?”

Hermione stared in disbelief as he disappeared into his dorm, before she rounded upon her friends.

She hurriedly sat in the empty armchair beside Luna and Neville, her face almost as red as Ron and Ginny’s hair. She glanced fearfully at Harry’s stricken face before squeezing her eyes shut.

“What in Merlins name is going on Hermione?” Ginny spoke for Harry, whose mouth was opening and closing like a fish, a red tinge creeping up his neck as he sat on the edge of his seat. The look on her face told Hermione that her suspicions had just been confirmed. 

Before she could respond, Luna said in a very Luna-like voice, “isn’t it obvious? Draco and Hermione are together now.” She smiled happily, folding Neville’s hand into hers on her lap.

Unable to make a coherent sound, Harry slumped back into the sofa, still staring at Hermione in bewilderment. Ginny patted his knee, the shock on her own face now mixed with amusement.

Ron leaned forward, raising his bottle of butterbeer slightly.

“To house unity then.” He downed his bottle and sat back.

Hermione smiled gratefully at him as she caught his wink, slowly feeling relief flood her body. Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

……………………..

The Potions Closet

In the days that followed the events in the Astronomy Tower, Draco had seen little of the woman who was now a permanent fixture in his mind. Sharing nothing more than shy smiles across classrooms, both to the amusement and dismay of their friends, they hadn’t had an opportunity to talk, let alone steal a kiss. Whenever they were both in the common room it appeared their classmates had an unspoken agreement to occupy their attention, and thus keep them apart. 

It was in advanced potions on Wednesday afternoon, in which both 7th year Slytherins and Gryffindors attended, Draco had decided he had had enough. Pansy had seated them as far away from where Hermione was seated with Ginny Weasley as she could, and continued to prattle on the point she had been arguing since he and Hermione had tumbled into the common room on Saturday evening.

“… I honestly don’t think you’ve got your head on straight Draco, I don’t know what you could possibly be thinking spending time with Granger,” she was hissing into his ear, for what felt like the 100th time. “I thought we were meant to be keeping our heads down and here you are, putting yourself right on top of the rumour mill with the Golden Trio. I could understand if you were just wanting to have a little fun with her…”

“Pansy,” Draco growled lowly. He really didn’t want to go down that avenue with her. The only person he had spoken about his feelings to, apart from Hermione, was Luna, and that was purely because he hadn’t had a choice.

“No, listen to me now Draco,” she spat. “We’ve been in this together from the start, and I always knew you didn’t seem to hate her like you did her two bloody lapdogs, but seriously, don’t you think this is going too far? That it won’t be dangerous? What could you possibly hope to achieve? She is a muggleborn saviour, royalty in the wizarding world, and you…” Her voice turned apologetic and her expression sorrowful. “You’re the son of a Death Eater, with the dark mark on your arm that you’ll never be rid of.”

Draco looked at her unhappily.

“I don’t know what is going to come of this, if anything at all,” he admitted. He stirred their thoroughly neglected potion in frustration, ignoring that it had started to turn into a bubbling green goop, far from the smooth buttery yellow it was meant to be. Not that Professor Slughorn ever paid them any mind, what with his class being so full of new potential additions to his Slug Club. “I don’t even know what _this_ is. At the start I just wanted her to know me, forgive me somehow. Then it turned into something else, like a need inside me to be close to her. I tried so hard when we were growing up to be cruel to her, think badly of her. I just couldn’t help noticing as the years went by that she was so much more captivating than intolerable; I couldn’t bring myself to go up against her like Potter and Weasley.”

Pansy nodded. Knowing her friend better than anyone else, of course she had noticed his change in attitude, however gradual.

“Remember the Yule Ball?” She smiled ruefully, glancing over to where Hermione was giving Ginny some direction about their own potion.

Draco nodded, following her eyes, lowering them quickly when Ginny’s head snapped up towards him.

“You could barely take your eyes off of her. I had to make sure you permanently had your back to her so everyone else wouldn’t notice!” She let out a small chuckle, recalling how distracted he had been, stumbling every time he caught a glimpse of the girl in the Periwinkle blue dress.

“I couldn’t get her out of my mind after she got captured at the Manor. I wanted to help her but Bellatrix was already looking for any reason to get me out of the way after she caught me taking food to Luna…”

He trailed off in thought, the memory of the night almost too painful to speak of.

Pansy looked over at Hermione, her head buried in her potions book, and back at her friend.

“You’re sure you want to go down this road?” She asked, her voice full of worry. “It might not end so well, and then you’ll be even worse off than before.”

Draco nodded, though his mind was certain. He knew he couldn't keep away from Hermione if he tried, not after what Trelawney had told him.

“I think she’s worth it Pansy, even if it only leads to her forgiving me and nothing more, it’ll be worth it.”

“Fine then. You have my support. And you know those two idiots will support any decision you made even if it meant they fell off the end of the earth.” Pansy jerked her head to Theo and Blaise, squabbling over who had caused their cauldron to glow orange. “And you really should just go up to her, I know you haven’t seen her all week. Never mind what her stuffy friends think.”

Draco let his gaze wander over to Harry and Ron, who had so far had success in their own potion. He felt a jolt of unease as his sterling eyes locked with a bright emerald green. He saw Harry frown at him unhappily before turning back to his desk. At that moment, Hermione had muttered something indecipherable to Ginny and marched into the ingredients room.

“You know Pans’,” he said to the girl sat beside him. “I think you’re right.”

He could feel eyes piercing the back of his head but he kept his eyes forward as he slipped into the storage room behind her.

…………………….

Hermione let out a frustrated groan as she jumbled through bottles of unorganised potion ingredients in search of a single bottle of armadillo bile for the wit-sharpening potion that they had been assigned to complete before the end of the lesson. She heard someone enter the room behind her.

“I’ll just be a minute, but if you’re looking for the bile too then you’re out of luck. Bloody Slughorn…” she grumbled.

She jumped in shock as a smooth hand rested on the shelf beside her shoulder. She spun around but barely had time to gasp before Draco’s lips crashed down to hers, letting out a strangled moan before returning the kiss, trying to satiate a need she hadn’t fully been aware of. His body pressed into hers and she felt the shelf digging into her back.

“Draco…” Hermione murmured as the kiss became less fervent. She felt his lips lightly brush her neck, and shivered as his fingers traced her hip.

“Mmhmm?” He paused, breathing in her floral scented hair.

“As much as this is sending me crazier than I want to admit, maybe we should do this later, somewhere more private,” she giggled, resting her hand on his chest with just enough pressure to make him draw back slightly.

He was breathing heavily, staring at her with such burning intensity she thought she would come apart right there in the store room.

“I have to take every chance I get,” Draco purred, descending down on her neck once more. Between kisses he continued, “I haven’t had a chance to get you alone all week. Its driving me insane Hermione.” He stopped his advance then, and she took in his pleading expression.

“I know what you mean,” Hermione sighed. “I’ll meet you tonight. I promise. But we can’t stay in here like this, I’m dreading going back out there as it is.” She looked fearfully over his shoulder as if they were going to be caught out at any moment.

“Ugh, you’re right.” It took all of Draco’s resolve to release her. “Okay, meet me in the quidditch tower at eight o’clock.”

Upon receiving Hermione’s nod of agreement, he gave her one last kiss on the lips before turning to the door, where he almost bowled over Ginny.

Hermione saw his face break into a grin as he looked back at her, before he turned the corner and escaped to the safety of the classroom. She looked meekly at her friend, who was rooted to the spot, eyes almost bulging in disbelief.

“Hermione!” Ginny’s voice didn’t hold the accusatory tone that Hermione was expecting, but was threatening to break out into laughter. “Snogging in a cupboard in the middle of class? You’ve changed, my friend.”

“Ginny, keep you voice down!” Hermione pulled the girl deeper into the room, unable to keep the excitement from her own voice.

“Oh please, everyone in the 7th year dorms know by now that something is going on with you and Malfoy, neither of you have kept your eyes from each other in days” Ginny chortled. “I had a feeling when I saw that dragon in his pocket but I thought, surely not! I mean, it's fine, and he's not the same slimy ferret we once knew. I can’t say I understand though, how in Merlins name did this even start?”

“I barely know that myself,” Hermione admitted. “I just felt this feeling pulling me to him, to the point where I couldn’t think of anything else. I made that dragon that somehow looks like him, with a spell i'd never even heard of. I kissed him outside the library.” She paused, blushing at the memory of her impulsiveness. “Ron caught us, and I thought he would never speak to me again. That’s why I hid in the dorm. But of course, he did still want to speak to me. I guess we’ve been through too much together to let something as silly as me kissing another boy get in the way of our friendship. Anyway, it was him who convinced me to go and find Draco. And here we are…”

“It’s all very romantic, isn’t it,” Ginny said dreamily, her voice not unlike Luna’s. “Gryffindor princess taming the Serpent. Or maybe he’s taming the lioness.” She broke off as both girls fell into a fit of giggles. “When are you seeing him again?”

“Tonight, in the quidditch tower,” Hermione said shyly. “Oh Merlin, Ginny you have to help me get ready after dinner!”

“Of course I will!” Ginny smiled back at her before her lips turned down as she looked at her seriously. “You will be careful, won’t you Hermione? I know this is exciting, but I really don’t want you to get hurt. And I know Harry is feeling the same, he just doesn’t know how to bring it up with you.”

Hermione led her flame haired friend from the closet, touching her head to hers as they walked.

“Of course, Ginny. Now come on, class is nearly over.”

………………………

At 7.30pm, Hermione made her way out of the common room and out of the main castle to the quidditch tower. She wasn’t sure if Draco had left already or not, but she almost couldn’t contain her excitement as she walked to where they would soon be together.

Two hours before, Ginny had all but scooped her curly haired friend up from the Gryffindor table and dragged her from the hall after a rushed dinner. Hermione had noticed with a pang in her stomach that Draco hadn’t attended the great hall, but the absence of panic on his Slytherin friends’ faces had eased her concerns.

Ginny had taken great pleasure in choosing Hermione’s outfit, a light cotton button up blouse tucked into a periwinkle blue skirt that reached her the middle of her thigh. She had also charmed her waist length auburn lengths so they would remain in place ‘in the event of any extra-curricular activities’, as Ginny put it. Hermione did her best to scowl at her, but her heart wasn’t in it.

Bristling with nerves, Hermione entered the tower, thankful for the jacket she had grabbed as an afterthought on her way out of her dormitory. She felt different, more apprehensive than when she had rushed to find Draco in the Astronomy Tower.

Upon entering the small keep, glad that it was sheltered from the cool November night, Hermione realised that Draco hadn’t arrived yet.

Squelching down her disappointment, she took a seat on a carved wooden bench, and waited.

As the minutes dragged on, she began to pace around the small room. She checked her watch, shocked to see that the hour hand had already ticked passed the nine. Surely, he hadn’t forgotten. No, she thought. It was far more likely he had changed his mind.

Hermione felt anger rise in her belly, mostly directed at herself. How could she have been so brainless? So naïve?

Not even bothering the attempt to quell the tears that were forming, she wrapped her jacket tightly around her, and exited the way she came.

Maybe it was the way the moonlight hit was the stone steps as Hermione began her descent, or perhaps on her way up she had been too excited to pay attention, but she suddenly saw something gleaning on the wall close to the third step down. Eyebrows furrowed, she knelt down to get a closer look and jumped back in horror when she realised it was a smear of wet blood, still shining with its freshness.

Hermione felt fear spread through her body as she stared wide eyed at the sight.

“Draco,” She whispered as a realisation hit her.

Without another thought, she sprinted down the steps and to the North Tower to find Harry. She needed to take a look at that map of his.


	8. The Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A foul stench filled his nostrils and his eyes searched the room, lighter now than it had been when he’d woken previously. He made out a hulking figure on the edge of the room, large and imposing. As if appearing from nowhere, another two men materialised in the room, one standing tall as he shoved the second man, filthy and decrepit, forward to the hard damp ground. He fell to his hands and knees painfully as raised his remorse filled eyes at Draco, letting out a sob when he saw the young man bound and wounded.

The Cave

Pain. Damp. Cold.

These were the first three sensations that Draco registered as he groggily regained consciousness. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the pounding in his skull. He slowly attempted to reach a hand to the nape of his neck, where he could feel a sticky wetness against the soft wool of his sweater. He felt a sense of panic creep through him as he noticed his hands didn’t seem to follow their instructions, and after a few seconds of petrifying numbness Draco realised that both his arms were caught in a vice-like grip. His vision still blurred from the pain in his head, and the air around him dank and dark, he could barely make out what looked like tree vines wrapped firmly around them from shoulder to wrist, fastening him solidly to a cold brick wall. Not brick, he thought. Stone? Was he somewhere in the castle?

He tested out the strength of the snares by pulling gently against them, unsure if they were conjured by some sinister magic. Draco let out a gasp, eyes widening as the vines cut deeper into his skin, and a new one snaked tightly around his left leg. Breathing heavily and trying his best not to move and inch, he blinked away tears and tried to clear his vision. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw he was in some sort of cave, its damp, murky walls foreboding. Eyes darting around and not daring to move his head lest the ominous plant moved to his neck, he searched in vain for some exit, some escape. Finding none, he let out a choked cry of despair. How had he gotten to this miserable place? How long had he been unconscious?

Draco began searching his mind to what he last remembered. He had left the main castle and was standing in the keep of the quidditch tower. He recalled his nerves as he was waiting there. For who?

His eyes flew open and he jolted forward, regretting it as soon as he did so as a new, thicker branch snared around his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs.

The pain was overcoming him once more and he felt his head topple back, his shining silver eyes drifting shut and he dreamt of a fervent kiss surrounded by soft fire, and a sweet floral scent.

………….

Hermione was hurtling up the steps to the 7thfloor corridor when she collided into someone’s solid chest.

Looking up and clutching the stitch in her side, she felt relief mix with the anguish that was threatening to overwhelm her.

“Harry!” Hermione gasped, bent double, vaguely registering the small group of people behind him. “Harry, something’s happened!

Draco… he’s gone, taken… I need to see the map!”

Harry, accompanied by Ron, assisted Hermione to stand, their expressions full of worry. It was then she saw a thick wad of parchment in Harrys hand.

“The Map!” she exclaimed. “Let me see it!”

Reluctantly, Harry handed it over.

“He’s not here Hermione, I checked it to find you both as soon as I heard.”

Hermione snapped her head up to look at him, and then the group around him. The three were joined by Ginny, Neville and Luna, with Pansy, Theo and Blaise stood anxiously behind.

“What did you hear?” Hermione said, not daring to guess. “What’s happened?”

Harry took a deep breath before continuing. There was a pained, exhausted expression on his face that he had often worn in their search for Horcruxes.

“We received a patronus from McGonagall, for all of us,” he gestured to the group around them, “and of course you and Malfoy to meet in her office immediately. There’s… there’s been a break out at the ministry...”

Hermione looked at him in horror as she digested the news.

“And Draco?” she cried. “Where is he?”

“Hermione,” Harry said slowly. “He’s not on the map. He’s not at Hogwarts.”

Together they moved their attention fearfully to Luna, who was shivering and as white as a ghost as Neville wrapped his arms protectively around her.

“He’s cold.” The girls voice was barely more than a whisper. “He’s so cold. And in pain.”

Hermione sank to her knees, unable to make a sound. She barely registered Ron’s arm grasp her gently around the waist, and he half carried her as the group of terrified youths made their way to the headmistresses’ quarters, their futures once again uncertain.

…………

Filing into Professor McGonagalls office a short while later, Hermione was surprised to find it already full of people.

“Dad!” Ginny ran up to Arthur Weasley, whose faced paled when he embraced his youngest child. Without letting go of his daughter, he reached out and grasped Ron by the hand. He looked like he may never let them out of his sight again.

Also in the room was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the five aurors that had accompanied him to Malfoy Manor, the headmistress, Sturgis Podmore and Bill Weasley, all wearing the same severe expression.

“Oh, my dear.”

Minerva McGonagall noted the shaking Luna and ushered her into the Headmistresses chair. Satisfied that the girl wasn’t going to pass out in her office, she rounded on the room and hunched over her desk.

“Minister,” she directed at Kingsley, weariness etched on the lines of her face. “How could this have happened?”

Kingsley stepped forward to address them all.

“For those of you who don’t yet know, the Ministry of Magic dungeons were breached this afternoon and no less than five senior Death Eaters and one werewolf successfully escaped. Many more were apprehended and killed in the attempt, but it fills me with regret to tell you that we lost many Aurors and several members of the Order as well.”

“And can you tell us, Minister, the names of those who escaped?” asked McGonagall, her eyes closed as the room processed the news.

Kingsley licked his lips before continuing.

“Alecto Carrow, Thorfin Rowle, Fenrir Greyback…”

The room collectively shuddered, several pairs of eyes darting to Bill Weasleys scarred face, and Theodore Nott’s mutilated neck.

“…Rodolphus Lestrange, Walden Macnair and…” Kingsley paused, as if realising for the first time that Draco was missing.

“Who?” Hermione pressed, though she had a feeling she already knew.

“Among them was Lucius Malfoy.”

Hermione sat on a seat in front of the desk in the centre of the room, rubbing her temples. What did this mean? Had the Death Eaters been the ones to kidnap Draco? Would Lucius Malfoy really hurt his own son? She looked up to where Harry was talking to the many

wizards in the room.

“We believe that Draco Malfoy has somehow been kidnapped from the grounds. Hermione was going to meet him at 8 o’clock tonight and he didn’t turn up. When we got your message, Professor, I searched for Hermione and Draco and saw that Hermione was making her way towards us and Draco was nowhere on the grounds.” Seeing the older wizards questioning looks, he added, “I have a map of

Hogwarts that belonged to my father, Remus and Sirius, you see. It shows the entire castle and grounds, and every person within them.”

“Well, Potter,” grumbled McGonagall. “That certainly explains your success in rule breaking, as well as your father's.”

“I think that is a matter for later,” Bill interceded.

Arthur nodded.

“I think we can agree that all of you are in danger, even in the castle. Even you three,” he added, looking at the three Slytherins standing quietly in the corner. “If the Malfoy boy has already been targeted, we should assume that you’ll be next. We should move you to a safe house as soon as possible.”

The adults convened together for a moment, appearing to argue about where to send the group of young witches and wizards, until Bill looked at Harry as if the answer had been in front of them all along.

“Grimmauld Place?”

Hermione watched as Harry nodded, walking with surety to the fireplace. Without another word, he stepped inside, grabbing a handful of ash from a vase on the way. Dropping the floo powder to his feet, he shouted “12, Grimmauld Place!” Emerald green flames swallowed him whole and Hermione sighed as she too stepped into the grate.

……………..

A loud, clamouring sound roused Draco from his dreamless sleep. He noticed with relief that the pain in his head had eased slightly. He glanced down, careful not to tilt his head too much and noted the dark slimy vines still wrapped around his chest. He found he could not feel his arms or leg at all.

A foul stench filled his nostrils and his eyes searched the room, lighter now than it had been when he’d woken previously. He made out a hulking figure on the edge of the room, large and imposing. There was a low growl filling the chamber and Draco felt his heart fill with dread as he recognised then noise. As if appearing from nowhere, another two men materialised in the room, one standing tall as he shoved the second man, filthy and decrepit, forward to the hard damp ground. He fell to his hands and knees painfully as raised his remorse filled eyes at Draco, letting out a sob when he saw the young man bound and wounded.

“Say hello to your father, boy,” The man kicked a cowering Lucius Malfoy hard in the stomach, causing him to keel over into a foetal position.

Draco tried to struggle against his bonds, crying out in agony as they tightened around his limbs and cut into his torso.

“You… you bastard…” he managed as the man standing before him threw his head back and laughed a sick, mirthless laugh as another two Death Eaters, a man and a woman, apparated into view behind him.

Draco wanted nothing more than to dissolve into the rock wall behind him as Rodolphus Lestrange leant forward, his sickly, diseased breath licking Draco’s skin.

“Now, boy, is that any way to speak to your uncle?”

…………….

Hours later, when no sleep had come, Hermione sat at the kitchen table in the grimy kitchen of 12 Grimauld Place. Harry had succeeded in making it brighter slightly in the time he and Ginny had spent there over the summer before their return to Hogwarts, but the memories of the place hung in the air like smoke.

She looked up as Harry sidled into the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head glumly and Harry nodded in understanding. How many times had they sat together at this very table, feeling the same terrible uncertainty as they did now? Hermione was eager to start the search for the Death Eaters, and for Draco, but they had been given strict instruction by the Minister for Magic and the Order to remain at the safe house until there was more news. Even Hermione was forced to admit they had zero leads to go on.

“We’ll find him Hermione. I can’t say I understand this… this thing between you and Malfoy, but I can see how much this is hurting you. We won’t stop until we find him.”

“Why would they do this though?” Hermione exclaimed, letting out the frustration that was building inside her. “Why him? Why not you? Or me or Ron?”

“I think it has more to do with him betraying the Death Eaters,” Harry mused. “His admissions at the trials led to the arrest of a lot of them that escaped after the Battle. Pansy’s trial was the same. I’m almost surprised they didn’t try to grab her too. How did they get onto the grounds?”

Hermione was pondering what he was saying when there was a sharp knock on the door.

As if by reflex, Harry and Hermione barely looked at each other before tearing down the hallway with their wands outstretched, Ron appearing down the stairs behind them.

“I thought people who knew about this place under the fidelus charm could only floo here,” Ron said.

The three looked at each other and raising their wands to the door, feeling ready to battle any foe, as Harry nudged the door open.

“Hello Potter. Oh put your wands down,” a voice said haughtily on the doorstep.

Before them was the striking and elegantly robed figure of Narcissa Malfoy.

“I thought you might appreciate the help in the search for my son.”

…………………..

Number 13, Grimmauld Place

Narcissa Malfoy was an intimidating woman, to say the least. Her long, blonde hair cascaded in barrelled curls down her back, which was as straight a poker in the carved wooden chair she sat in. Her bright white skin was a crisp contrast to her elegant black and emerald robes, that seemed to billow even in the stillness of the kitchen. She certainly must have been beautiful once, but as Hermione sat opposite her at the dining table of number 12 Grimmauld place, studying Narcissa’s upturned nose and the grimace that suggested she might catch some disease if she breathed in too deeply, the young witch decided that the woman in front of her looked very much like a well-manicured pug.

“My aunt and uncle never did understand fine décor,” Narcissa said, glancing around the dank kitchen with no attempt to disguise her distaste.

Harry and Ron were sat either side of Hermione, and the three shared a combined struggle not to roll their eyes at the witch.

“As you know, Mrs Malfoy, your cousin Sirius left the house to me in his will, and though I’ve been doing my best to cosy the place up a bit, the old dark magic lingering here has made that quite a challenge,” Harry said, disgruntled by the fact.

Hermione shuddered at the thought of the painting upstairs of Walburga Black, Sirius’ mother, that screamed ‘mudblood’ at her whenever she walked past. She had claimed a drawing room on the lower floor as her bedroom for this very reason.

“Yes, my father Cygnus and Uncle Orion were very secretive. They were quite particular to whom they allowed access to their possessions, and eventually their dark magic seeped into every crevice of the Black ancestral homes. I myself, though quite proficient in the dark arts, spent years trying to undo it before I finally managed it.” Narcissa leaned back slightly with a whisper of a smile of her crimson lips, looking quite pleased with herself.

“So you know how to get rid of those cursed paintings?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Of course I do,” Narcissa replied haughtily, as if offended by the question. “I may even agree to remove it, if you agree to help me. Which brings us to why I am here.”

Hermione felt her heart drop a little. In the wake of their unexpected visitor, she had almost forgotten that Draco was missing. She lifted her hand to her chest absent-mindedly, and was startled by Narcissa’s sudden intake of breath.

“Where did you get that?” She breathed, her silver eyes suddenly filled with fire.

“What? Oh…” Hermione reached under her blouse and pulled out the fine golden chain. It was the threaded gold she had found woven around Draco’s folder. She had forgotten that she had transfigured it into a necklace after their kiss in the potions closet, intending it to be a surprise for Draco, a reassurance that she was prepared to put their pasts behind them. She was unsure if now was the right moment to inform the blood-proud woman that her son had taken up with a muggleborn. “It’s just a necklace,” she added, trying to sound innocent.

“I know what it is, girl,” Narcissa snapped. “I made it for Draco myself. I know what he used it for, he had to keep those thoughts of his hidden or we would all have been snake fodder! How do you have it? It was charmed so that if anyone but Draco touched it, they would simply melt away as if they were never there at all-“

“Sounds more like a curse to me,” Ron grumbled under his breath while Narcissa rambled on.

“-I didn’t even have access to it. The only person other than Draco that could have removed the chain is the person that-“

Narcissa’s snapped her mouth shut, her eyes bulging out of their sockets as if she was choking. She turned a peculiar shade of green and looked as if she might vomit right there on the kitchen table.

“Mrs Malfoy?” While Hermione was glad that the necklace was not, apparently, going to cause her to dissolve into the carpet, her curiosity had peaked at what Narcissa had to say about why it didn’t. She was also slightly concerned that if the woman didn’t take a breath soon, she might actually explode.

Narcissa let out a shaky breath, considering the bright young witch in front of her. Hermione could almost see a battle going on behind her eyes.

“It may just be that the charm no longer holds it power,” she said unconvincingly. “It appears that it is, after all, just a necklace.”

Hermione sensed the finality in her voice, and decided to leave the matter for a later date. She had suddenly remembered another mystery that she had forgotten to bring up with Draco.

“Mrs Malfoy, I read in Draco’s, I mean, Draco told me, that you might have been able to live at Grimmauld Place if he were able to get you away from the Manor when Voldemort reigned there.”

Harry and Ron glanced at Hermione sharply, registering the implication of her words. It was now evident that Narcissa had no problem in finding them, may have had access to the Black house all along, possibly even when it was a safe house for the Order following Voldemort’s return.

“Did you know all along about the house? That it was the Order of the Phoenix headquarters?”

Narcissa sat back in her seat, her eyes gleaning with secrets.

“Of course I knew. My grandfather built this house. But to answer your question, no, it wasn’t the house that Draco was referring to. So blinded you all were, never once taking in your surroundings. You knew well enough that to the naked eye number 12 was missing, but failed to see that across the street, 13 was also invisible.”

The three of them sat there, shocked and a little horrified at the revelation.

“Surely You Know Who didn’t know?” Ron asked shakily. “We never would have made it back to school fifth year if he had.”

They stared at the striking witch with wide eyes as she shook her head.

“No, he didn’t know. These two houses were inherited by my father and his brother, and subsequently, one went to my sisters and myself, and the other went to my dear departed cousin Sirius.” She grimaced as if the name left a foul taste on her lips. Harry bristled as she continued.

“I spoke before of the dark magic that fills these walls. No matter the strength of the fidelus charm, even of Albus Dumbldore’s own making, nothing could have hidden this place from me, or my sisters.”

“How then?” asked Hermione. “How did the Death Eaters never claim it?”

“I was very young when the Dark Lord came to power.” Narissa’s tone was grave. “I was only a few years older than James and Lily Potter, and by the time Lucius had taken up with him, he was far too powerful. We had heard that the Potters had a child, born just days after our own son, and that the Dark Lord was seeking vengeance upon them for defying him. He wanted them, you see. It was no secret that James Potter was a magnificent wizard, coming from an ancient line of greatness. And then there was Lily Potter. Well, let’s just say that no one truly believed that she had no magical heritage. She truly was the greatest young witch of our generation. They said back then that Potter was descended from Gryffindor himself, and Lily from Merlin.”

Hermione sat in silence, letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She glanced sideways at Harry, who was holding on the Narcissa’s every word.

“We knew when he found them, they would have no chance. As for that little baby boy, he had long since made up his mind that he would die. At that point none of us knew about the prophecy of the Dark Lords downfall.

“I was terrified for my family, for my child. My sister Andromeda had taken up with a muggleborn,” the distaste in her voice was paramount, “and Bella was becoming more unstable by the day. I knew I would have no help to keep Draco safe from the Dark lord, should the need arise. I obliviated them both, to forget there ever being a Black family home. I had already cast a curse on this house so that anyone entering it would forget the other house too, long before that. So, Sirius never could have hoped to tell you about it either. As you know, the Manor was removed from the Malfoy estate shortly after the Battle for Hogwarts. I have been living across the street ever since.”

Hermione couldn’t deny that she was awestruck by Narcissa’s scheming and defiance.

“There’s still one thing that doesn’t fit, Mrs Malfoy.” Harry cut in. “How did you hide all this from Voldemort? From Snape, even? They were two of the most accomplished legillimens of our time.”

“I let Bella think that she was teaching Draco Occlumency for that reason, Mr Potter, so I could feign ignorance and unintelligence. It made her think she had a certain level of control over my family. She mainly used their sessions to torture my poor boy. But did you really think, in her insanity, that her mind could hold that skill? She was immensely powerful, absolutely. But Occlumency takes a certain clarity that my dear sister could never possess. I was particularly accomplished at it. I taught him myself. Why, Potter, do you think that the Dark Lord never realised that I had betrayed him when you lay alive on the forest floor?”

Harry sat back dumbfounded. Hermione knew that it really had never crossed his mind how Narcissa had been able to lie to Voldemort

so easily.

“Mrs Malfoy,” Hermione started uneasily. “Do you know why your husband might have captured Draco? Or where he might have taken him?”

Narcissa’s eyes narrowed slightly as she registered Hermione’s concern for her son.

“Lucius?” she scoffed. “Kidnap our own son? No Miss Granger, I can promise you that he is as much a prisoner of those mongrels as Draco is. It would not surprise me if my husband were already dead.”

Though her face was stony, her silver eyes betrayed her as fear for her family flashed across them.

“Then who?” Harry asked, frustrated at the lack of information the Order had given them.

“I would think it likely that the Death Eaters are being led by my brother-in-law, Rodolphus.” Narcissa supressed a shudder. “It brings me no pleasure that he is at large again, I can assure you. I loved my sister once, but that man turned her into something unfathomable. And if there was any man more fanatical about the Dark Lord than my sister, it was Rodolphus Lestrange. And I believe he has brought his vicious pet, Greyback, with them. That Disgusting cretin will take what he can get, but he has a particular taste for young men.”

The witch no longer tried to conceal her worry then. She leant forward, looking over Harry and Ron, and her eyes, suddenly shining with emotion, locked with Hermione’s. Hermione once again pictured Bill Weasleys scars, only this time they were marring Draco’s face in her mind.

“So you see, I would find it highly agreeable that we set out to find my son. Immediately.”

…………..

Hours later, Hermione was pouring over known Death Eater strongholds with Harry and Ron, with Narcissa, Pansy, Blaise and Theo turning out to be their greatest assets. The great wooden table was strewn from one end to the other with maps and diagrams that Draco’s mother and the Slytherins had conjured up, desperately searching for an obvious answer.

“It’s no use!” cried Pansy, wracked with dread for her missing friend. “They would never take him somewhere we would know about, that’s too simple!”

Theo had sat down on a stool in the corner. Hermione looked up to see a solemn expression on his drained face.

“Are you okay Theo?” she asked.

“It’s just imagining Draco there, with that monster.” Theo’s eyes darkened as he pulled the neck of his collared shirt down to reveal the scar on his neck merging with thickened, angry red skin covering his chest. “You know I was sixteen when Greyback attacked me? He damn near killed me. If it wasn’t for Lucius catching him, he might have. My father and Lucius would have gotten rid of him then and there had it not been for Rodolphus and Bellatrix. Said they still had their uses for him.”

Hermione had a sick feeling in her stomach at the reminder of the horrific childhood some of the Slytherin’s had had. Trying to quell her nausea, she realised Pansy was talking now.

“Macnair’s with them too, isn’t he? Oh Merlin, if we get a chance at them, this time he wont be going back to prison.”

“Macnair, isn’t he the executioner that was sent to kill Buckbeak?” asked Ron, frowning.

“Yes,” Narcissa nodded, a shadow of regret playing on her face as she glanced over at Pansy. “He was an executioner for the Ministry. He’s a madman.”

Pansy nodded, lost in some dark memory.

“He was particularly violent. He was close friends with my father, so he was a regular visitor at my estate. My father believed that

Macnair would help him achieve higher success in the ministry, and put in a good word for our family if the Dark Lord should ever return. So, no matter how disgusting his tastes were, or how far he took his depraved tendencies out on myself and other little girls, my father never risked his friendship with him.”

Her face was blank as they stared at her. Hermione recalled what Draco had told her in the Astronomy Tower, and felt bile rise in her throat as she realised that she had escaped the same fate that Pansy had suffered.

Blinking away tears, Pansy turned once more to the maps in front of her.

“We really should get back to these,” she whispered softly.

There was suddenly a loud crash as the kitchen door flew open. Luna strode in, a holding a piece of parchment in her hands. Hermione could make out dark, ominous looking vines scattered all over it in a blurry sketch.

“I saw him, I saw where he’s being held!” Luna shrieked.

They group crowded around the spot she had placed the drawing on the table.

“That looks like-“ Ron frowned.

“Devil Snare,” Hermione finished, panic rising within her.

Narcissa tore her eyes away from the picture, staring intensely Hermione.

“I know where they are,” she breathed. “I know where my son is.”


	9. Was This What Death Felt Like?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco felt as if he were lying on a cloud. Was this what death felt like? The blissful release from pain?  
> He thought of his mother. Did she know yet that he was dead? He felt grief engulf him at the thought of never seeing her again.  
> And Hermione… Had she been angry when he hadn’t been there to meet her in the tower? He thought of her brilliant eyes and beautiful long hair. How had there once been a time that he had mocked her for it, been cruel about her looks? He thought about her warm hands pulling him closer and her soft lips on his cheek

Was this What Death Felt Like?

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

The air was cold and still. There was a malodourous stench in the air and though he had no way of truly knowing, Draco was certain days had passed since he had been taken from the quidditch tower and brought to this god-forsaken place. Though feeling in his mangled arms and legs had long been absent, due to the ever-clenching grip of the deathly vines that entrapped him, he was sure of their condition. He would surely die, and soon. His head lulled to the side in delirium.

“Son… Draco, stay awake now…”

Draco did his best to open his eyes, their lids fluttering as Lucius Malfoy, hunched and broken, brought water to his lips.

“Can’t you see that he’s in no state to fight back? He’s dying for Merlin’s sake!” Lucius rasped desperately over his shoulder at the tall man smiling gleefully at the scene from across the cavern. “Can’t you just remove this infernal snare?”

“Oh, Lucius. All this time you’ve been thinking this was to punish the boy.” Rodolphus Lestrange stepped into the murky centre, still barely visible. “You, Lucius, have proven time and again to be a disloyal worm. Maybe if scum like you and your boy stayed with the Dark Lord then the likes of us wouldn’t be rotting in cells, lurking in shadows. Your boy even got to roam free at Hogwarts. If it wasn’t for your weaknesses, and your bitch of a wife’s treachery, the Dark Lord would have prevailed! Bellatrix would have lived!”

Rodolphus paused at the mention of his late wife, the Dark Lords mistress. There was no grief or sense of loss in his words. There was just a deep, all-consuming rage. When the moment passed, he had regained his composure, wearing a cold look on his face.

“Macnair always did have an affinity for devils snare. He is very proud of this particular growth of it. It's a shame he's off fulfilling certain... needs... of his. You are going to watch your son die, Lucius. However, I see no sense in the boy dying just yet. We have much more in store for you both.”

Rodolphus traced his wand over Draco’s face, letting out a sinister laugh as a deep gash appeared from above his eyebrow to his cheek bone. Draco’s eyes widened at the sudden pain, too shocked to make a sound.

“Lumos.”

The vines shrieked at Rodolphus’ spell, causing Lucius to reel back for a moment at the sudden white light filling the room. Regaining his senses, Lucius lurched forward to catch Draco, who, unconscious once more, was falling forward as the vines receded, scurrying into the rock as though burned. He pulled his son to his chest, weeping with remorse as Draco’s limbs fell limply to the ground.

“I will kill you, Lestrange.” Lucius glared through the tears falling freely down his grimy face. “I’ll find a way to take my son from here, and I will kill you.”

Rodolphus apparated from the cave, leaving an echo of a high, cold laugh ricocheting from the walls.

………………..

“Where is he?”

The inhabitants inside number 12 Grimmauld Place had sprung into action at Narcissa’s revelation.

“He’s in a cave, deep in the mountains surrounding the school. It was used by Death Eaters as a base when the Dark Lord first rose to power. Bella and Rodolphus lived there after his downfall, before they were caught sent to Askaban. Oh, why didn’t I think of it before!”

Narcissa was as white as a sheet, eyes locked on Luna’s sketch as she formulated a plan.

“None of you will be able to apparate there, and only a small number of us should go-“

Cries of protest were quickly silenced by Narcissa’s severe glare.

“These men, well they’re hardly men anymore. If they’re present and notice our arrival, we will lose our only advantage. Mr Potter, you’ve proven your aptitude for duelling many times, I would hope that you will join me. Mr Weasley, you too. Miss Lovegood, your emotional connection with my son may only prove to be a hindrance in this circumstance, you may find yourself overwhelmed by his pain once we arrive. Mr Longbottom, Pansy, you stay here with her. Blaise, Theodore, apparate to Hogsmeade station and go straight to Minerva. Have her notify the Minister.”

Narcissa took a deep breath, shaking her weariness away as they all nodded.

“And me, Mrs Malfoy?” Hermione was desperate to join her friends on their mission to find Draco, but didn’t dare argue with the witch before her.

“I think it best that you join us, Miss Granger,” Narcissa said hesitantly. It was clear that she didn’t quite like the idea. “I’ve no doubt that my son has been grievously harmed, and if we are to get him out alive then we should at least be an even match for those mongrels. And I would think your presence may be of some comfort to my boy,” she added grimly.

Hermione felt relief wash over her.

“Alright, you three,” Narcissa continued. “You won’t be able to apparate anywhere near the place as you haven’t been taken there before. I’ll take Potter and Weasley, and come back for you,” she nodded at Hermione.

Without another word, Narcissa strode out of the kitchen and out the front door, Ron and Harry hurrying after her. Their feet barely left the doorstep when, with a very quiet pop, the three had disappeared.

Hermione stood outside the door, wringing her hands together. After what felt like a lifetime, but was probably only a few seconds, the blonde witch returned. Hermione barely had time to register her presence before she felt herself being whisked away.

A moment later, Hermione swayed on the spot and bit back nausea caused by the apparation. Gathering herself, she stood upright and took in the masses of trees and boulders around them, and rested her eyes on Harry and Ron’s relieved faces.

“Where are we?” she called to Narcissa, who had already begun her ascent of the steep hill.

“Just follow me,” she shouted back, not pausing to turn around. “We won’t be seen, Death Eaters only apparate into the cave.”

Sharing a quick glance with her friends, Hermione took off after her, Ron and Harry close behind.

After almost thirty minutes of trekking, Narcissa came to a halt before a large imposing cliff-face. There was nowhere to go except directly up.

“If we’d have known we were going to be scaling walls, Mrs Malfoy, then we could have at least brought brooms,” Harry grumbled.

“Quiet boy,” Narcissa snapped behind her. She pressed both hands against the rock wall, a glimmer quivering under her fingers as she did so. She was murmuring incantations under her breath, eyes fixated on the stone beneath her. After a few minutes, she stepped back with a satisfied look on her face.

“None of the Death Eaters are in there,” she said in a sure tone. “I’m not even sure Lucius or Draco are in there. At the very least, there aren’t any wands on the other side of this wall.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at her, in awe of the strange magic evident before them.

“What do we do now?” Hermione felt desperation rising in her at the thought of Draco being so close, but so out of her reach.

“Now,” Narcissa said, a spark in her eye. “Now we get to blow up this infernal place.”

……………….

Draco felt warm water running down his face, trying with all his might to regain consciousness. Was it water? It felt too thick.

His eyes flew open as he registered the pain in his arms and legs, accompanied by the lack of numbness he had grown so used to. He also realised her was no longer upright and strapped to the wall, but laying uncomfortably on the hard ground. He heard a body shuffle over to him and started, but found himself too weak to defend himself. Lifting his head slightly he saw, in the darkness, a pair of silver eyes almost devoid of life, that matched his own.

“Father?” Draco choked. His voice grated like fire in his throat.

“Oh my boy,” Lucius let out a sob as he moved to lift Draco’s head off the filthy ground.

Draco took in how injured and dirty his father was, and wondered if it was from their time in the cave of from his treatment in prison. Probably both, he thought bitterly.

“Where are we?” Draco murmured.

“We’re in a cave, not far from Hogwarts. The only way in or out is through apparition, but neither of us have a wand.”

“Does anyone else know about this place?”

“Your mother does,” said Lucius sorrowfully. “I can see no reason that she would think to look here. And even if she did, she would surely never be successful- “

Lucius’ words were interrupted by a messy popping sound, and a low growl filled the room. Draco saw his father’s eyes fill with fear as the man looked over his shoulder, half a second before his body was flung into a wall opposite them. He landed in a heap in the dirt, his body limp and unmoving.

Draco looked up as a figure loomed above him. A disfigured face, torn between wolf and man, leant in, saliva dripping from his jowls as Draco breathed in the stench of his breath.

“I’ve been waiting for a moment alone with you.” The voice rumbled from deep within Fenrir Greyback chest. “Lestrange won’t be happy, but he’ll get over it...”

Draco bit hard into his own lip in order not to scream in agony as the werewolf dug his rank yellow fingernails into his chest, his jaws widening as he prepared to rip into Draco’s neck.

Greyback suddenly drew back, confused, as a deafening crumbling sound echoed through the chamber. Both Draco and the werewolf snarled against the blinding light that engulfed them. Draco turned his head towards the wall, preparing himself for the agonising death that was certainly coming.

Being a creature more accomplished at physical violence than at using actual magic, Greyback barely had time to draw his wand before he was stupefied by a flash of red light and thrown from Draco’s side.

Voices were calling him, hands touching his face. His eyes fluttered open and he briefly caught a glimpse of swirling fire and shining umber orbs as he fell once more into darkness.

……………………

Draco felt as if he were lying on a cloud. Was this what death felt like? The blissful release from pain?

He thought of his mother. Did she know yet that he had been missing? That he was dead? Had she searched for him? He felt grief engulf him at the thought of never seeing her again.

And Hermione… Had she been angry when he hadn’t been there to meet her in the tower? He thought of her brilliant eyes and beautiful long hair. How had there once been a time that he had mocked her for it, been cruel about her looks? He thought about her warm hands pulling him closer and her soft lips on his cheek.

_Draco._

Was he imagining the tears falling down his cheeks? Surely a dead man couldn’t weep.

_Draco, you’re home. You’re safe…_

He saw a light behind his eyelids, letting them flicker a little so he could only see his eyelashes.

All at once, he felt as if pain was pulling him under, and then within a second, it was gone again.

He realised he was laying, not on a cloud, but on a bed. He blinked a bit more forcefully this time, feeling a fingertip trace his face gently.

“Draco.”

Draco turned his head ever so slightly to the left, where his breath was nearly knocked out of him as he took in the young woman by his bedside. Her hair hung messily about her shoulders and she looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. She was wearing a flannelette robe, her knees pulled up on the chair beside him. Her large oval eyes shone with joy, and there were marks tracked down her cheeks from tears already shed. He wanted so desperately to reach out and pull her to him, to hold her in his arms and kiss her with all the emotion threatening to burst from his broken body.

“Hermione,” he managed, a sob rising in his throat as his fears of death were alleviated.

Hermione gently raised her hands to either side of his face, moving to sit on the bed as she did so. Draco could feel the tenderness and longing in her touch, and raised his chin towards her face. Encapsulated in her auburn curls, Draco let out a contented groan as her lips met his, soft to touch but heavy with desire.

“I was so scared,” Hermione whispered, pulling away a mere centimetre and touching her forehead to his. “I thought we would never find you, and when we did… Oh Draco what did they do to you?”

With great effort Draco moved a hand to caress her face, wiping away tears with his thumb.

“None of that matters now, Hermione. I’m here with you, and very glad about it.” He chuckled before frowning slightly. “My father, is he- “

“He’s alive, Draco. He’s here, and apart from a broken arm and being quite bruised, he’s actually quite well.” Hermione smiled soothingly at him, and Draco let his head relax into the pillow. “I should get your mother though,” she added. “She will be so happy to see you awake.”

Hermione made to move from the bed but Draco caught her hand in his.

“You’ll come back though, won’t you?” His eyes were pleading.

“Where else am I going to go?” Hermione smiled warmly at Draco, a look- no, a _feeling_ \- in her eyes that Draco couldn’t quite place.

All he knew was that he already missed her presence so desperately, and if he could have leapt from the bed and followed her, he would have. He sighed, as he noted the dull ache that encased his body. The pain was not something that was new to him.

“Bloody Death Eaters,” He grumbled. He closed his eyes and let himself drift of into a much more peaceful sleep, his lips tingling with the memory of the kiss placed there moments before.

……………….

We had a need to feel the thunder  
To chase the lightnin' from the sky  
To watch a storm with all its wonder  
Ragin' in each others eyes  
We had to ride the heat of passion  
Like a comet burnin' bright  
Rushin' headlong in the wind  
Out where only dreams have been  
Burnin' both ends of the night

-That Summer- Garth Brookes

Draco stirred as his mother entered his bedroom. It had been three days since she had led the mission to rescue him from the clutches of the Death Eaters, and two since he had regained consciousness. Though his body still ached where his wounds had been particularly severe, he had regained full movement in all of his limbs, and could move about freely. The scars where the Devils Snare has cut into his skin were almost nonexistent, the only marks remaining being the indents from Greybacks fingernails. It was well known that any injury from a werewolf’s claws or teeth would mar the skin forever.

Draco propped himself up on his pillows as Narcissa glided over to his bed, sitting down beside him.

“How are you feeling today, my love?” Concern was etched into every line of the woman’s face as she brought a hand to her sons cheek.

“I’m feeling much better actually,” replied Draco honestly. “A bit sore, but I doubt I’ll need to use the crutches anymore.”

“That’s good, dear.” Narcissa smiled a warm smile that was reserved only for her son and husband, and even then only in private. “When I heard that that madman and his dog had escaped, and that you were missing... I spent far too many years thinking that we wouldn’t get out of this mess alive, thinking I was going to lose you. I had hoped it would be over now and we come simply move on with our lives. How foolish I was for hoping.”

Draco patted his mothers hand sympathetically. She had always been a pillar of strength before and during the Dark Lords occupation of their home, and only to him would she let down her walls.

“We’re all safe here aren’t we?” He smiled at her reassuringly. “Hermione told me that Blaise, Pansy and Theo are staying at Potters across the street, and that the Ministry and the Order are looking into how Lestrange got into Hogwarts. They've got Greyback in chains, at least. Until we know more we will just stay here, and enjoy the time together.”

“Oh my boy.” Narcissa shed a single tear. “Yes, we’re safe here. Now, I need you to tell me about Miss Granger and yourself.”

Draco groaned.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled. He may have been close to his mother, but talking to her about girls was uncomfortable territory. He was a teenage boy after all.

“Oh please, Draco, I’m not blind. And nor is your father,” she added sharply. “The stubborn girl has hardly left your side since we brought you home, and it’s not as if you can bare to take your eyes off of her either. Now Draco, I know we are far passed the point where I can tell you what to do, and your father and I gave up years ago the hope that you would eventually marry dear Pansy, but are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“No,” Draco said simply. “I don’t know what started this, and I don’t know where it could possibly go, but what I do know is that I’d rather go back into that cave than never give it a chance and find out. It’s like, I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair frowning. “It’s like I need to be close to her. Even if I tried, I don’t think I could stay away. And I don’t think she would stay away either. Gryffindors are, after all, renowned for their stubbornness. And loyalty too.”

He side eyed his mother, who was staring hard at the wall.

“Even though she’s a muggleborn?” Narcissa whispered as if Draco might curse her for using the word.

“Yes even then. And really, mother, don’t you think we’ve come too far to hold on to such archaic beliefs?”

“Not as archaic as you would think, my boy,” Narcissa mused, patting his cheek again, and Draco cocked his head questioningly. “Anyway, that’s a story for another time. And now times are once again so uncertain, maybe you should just make the most of your relationship. I’ll leave you to bathe and dress. I trust you have strength enough? Good,” she said briskly when he nodded. “Then you can come downstairs. Miss Granger has been holding constant vigilance in this house for two days now and I’m sure you would like to see her outside of this room. I’d better go and rescue your father from his awkwardness.”

....................

Though not nearly as magnificent as Malfoy Manor, 13 Grimmauld Place certainly had a sense of grandeur that number 12, across the street, severely lacked.

Hermione sat stiffly on the tanned chesterfield couch in the living room, while Lucius Malfoy sat in an identical position in the armchair across the ornate coffee table, both looking extremely uncomfortable and both avoiding eye contact.

“So,” Lucius started, “I hear you’re quite adept at memory charms- “

The door opened and Lucius jumped to stand, obviously relieved for the intrusion.

Narcissa walked in, pushing a trolly laden with sandwiches and a tea set. Hermione might have laughed at the sight if she weren’t so surprised. Surely, Narcissa Malfoy fetching her own tea trolly was unprecedented.

“Oh don’t look so shocked, Miss Granger,” Narcissa said dryly, an unamused smile pulling at her lips. “You probably didn’t know that the Wizengamot has banned our family from the ownership of house elves. You now have to complete an application and pay a regular license fee, which in turn is deposited into an account for the elf’s own use. What a house elf could possibly need money for, I don’t know. I believe it came from some initiative presented by a muggleborn like yourself a few years ago, but only recently passed. Some strange name like ‘spew’. We have, however, made the transition quite well.”

Hermione blushed furiously as Narcissa busied herself with pouring tea and laying out plates, missing the knowing glint in Lucius’s eye.

“Oh thank Merlin,” she muttered under her breath as Draco walked into the room, barely even a limp in his step.

She stood up to meet him and took his arm, forgetting for a moment that they were in the presence of two people previously prejudiced against her kind, to the extreme. Draco smiled comfortingly at her, and let her guide him to the couch.

“Father,” he nodded at the older Malfoy man.

“Son,” Lucius replied, his eyes fixed on Draco’s hand on Hermione’s knee.

Hermione tried to untangle herself bashfully from Draco’s grasp, but he held her firmly in place.

“As you can see, mother, father, we have some things to discuss.” Draco spoke confidently to his parents, but Hermione could feel his heart pounding beside her.

“Yes,” Lucius replied. He leant back in his armchair, looking glad they were finally addressing the elephant in the room, and clasped his hands together on his knee. “I’m not a fool, Draco. I can see very well that you have taken up with this-“ he paused after a stern look from his wife. He gritted his teeth and continued painfully. “I can’t see that you have decided to peruse a relationship with Miss Granger here. I am sure you must know that it is far from the hopes that your mother and I had for you. However, under the circumstances, and recent history, we do understand that in order to move forward with success in our world you must be a pillar for change, lest our family be shunned like many other pureblood families. As it is, this could certainly be used to our advantage.”

“Mr Malfoy,” Hermione started to speak but was quickly interrupted by Draco.

“This is not a political statement!” Draco exploded angrily. “I’d of course be happy with the world knowing about us, or even no one at all! But I won’t let you use my relationship with Hermione so you can climb back up the social ladder!”

Lucius’s eyes widened at his sons words, and Hermione felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle with uncertainty.

“Very well, Draco. But rest assured, the Wizarding world will have something to say about this, and it most definitely will be turned into a political statement, whether you like it or not. I hope you’re prepared for the onslaught of scrutiny that is sure to come.”

With that, he sat back in silence, looking positively righteous as he dunked a biscuit in his tea.

Hermione glanced at Draco and watched as the anger slowly drained from his face, and was replaced with suspicion. He reached forward and took a sandwich and a teacup, not taking his eyes off his father as he took a sip.

“Oh well this is nice, all of us together,” Narcissa said briskly, as if the most recent conversation had been an emotional heart to heart. Hermione had to cover a nervous giggle with a cough, and shoved a small sandwich into her mouth.

Draco grinned sideways at her, and even Lucius seemed unable to suppress a minute smile as he ate another biscuit.

Hermione couldn’t help thinking what a strange predicament she had found herself in.

................

“Well that was a success,” Draco said happily into Hermione’s hair, her head on his shoulder and arm draped across him.

“Success!” She all but shrieked, bolting upright beside him. “It was mortifying! And did you know, Draco, that you’re not allowed a house elf because of something I put forward to the ministry? Oh Merlin your mother will curse me to oblivion when she finds out.”

“I did know, actually,” he said, throwing his head back and letting out a bark of a laugh. “You think I wouldn’t remember spew? You’re right though, I wouldn’t bring it up with my mother just yet if I were you. Let her grow to love you like I do first-“

Draco stopped talking and mentally punched himself. He didn’t dare to meet Hermione’s eyes, certain that she would soon be fleeing from the room for his confession. It hadn't even been three months since their collision at the train station. Too soon, he thought. He shut his eyes as he felt the bed shift, waiting for the inevitable. He wasn’t expecting the sensation of hair falling about his head, and he gasped when he opened his eyes. Her face just inches away from his own, Hermione leaned over him. She traced her fingers with a butterfly touch over his cheek. Her eyes were burning with that same look that he’d seen as she’d left his bedside the day after he had been rescued. He leaned up on his elbows, closing the space between them. As their lips met, he felt as if something was exploding within him, kissing with almost a fury that neither had experienced before. It was an intense, burning need that neither of them could have had any hopes of explaining. He felt her gasp into his mouth and it just spurred him on more.

Sitting upright now, Draco pulled her body close to him, encouraged when she straddled his hips. He ran his rough hands over the material of her jeans and wished ardently that they weren’t there.

Hermione’s hands trailed down and began to fumble at the buttons on his shirt, quickly giving up in frustration and pulling it over his head, Draco more than willing to assist. He tentatively moved his hands under her blue sweater and felt her shiver under his fingertips before she ripped it over her own head. In the pause of their fervent kissing, their eyes locked, both breathing heavily and sharing a look of fiery passion as Draco’s hands touched the bareness of her lower back, his thumb barely daring to touch the waistband of her jeans. As if in silent agreement that they were at the point of no return, they scrambled to remove their trousers, Hermione leaning back on the bed as she did so.

Gazing down at her as he knelt upright on the bed, her bewitching face surrounded by swirls of red, gold and brown, he felt like he could almost be swallowed by the umber pools of her eyes. Eyes that still held a certain innocence as they begged him to come closer.

Shy now, they removed their underwear, the last barrier between their skin.

Hermione pulled Draco down to where she lay before him, positioning him between her thighs and gasping lightly as his chest met her soft bare breasts.

Their kisses were slow now, soft and tender. Draco drew back, his silver eyes both questioning and pleading. In answer, she lifted her chin so their lips could meet, gripping his shoulders as she breathed him in. What started as a sharp pain soon turned into an indescribable pleasure that carried them through the night.

.....................

Hours later, and still held fast in each other’s arms, the two lovers lay together in contented silence, as if they had finally satisfied a heat of passion that had long been burning in their souls.

As they lay there, they both had an overwhelming sense that everything they had ever done, every place they had been, had lead them to this moment. If only they knew then how true that was.

Draco felt the flutter on Hermione’s eyelashes as she lay, naked, on his chest.

“Draco?” She murmured.

“Hmmm?”

“I love you too.”

Draco felt his heart burst with happiness. With no words needed, he gently kissed her head before they both drifted away into a peaceful sleep.


	10. Getting to Know You/ A Worthy Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are multiple secret entries in the Forbidden Forrest. Hagrid even sneaked his giant brother Grawp in there once. And then there’s the shrieking shack and the whomping willow, which was put there so Remus Lupin could safely turn into a werewolf while he was attending Hogwarts. So really, the grounds are much less secure than you’d think. If Voldemort knew about all of those entries the year before, we might not have been so lucky,” she finished matter-of-factly, cutting into her bacon and toast.

Getting to Know You

Hermione’s woke gently to the feeling of an arm holding her firmly against a body, so comfortable and content that she felt she could lay there forever.

Closing her eyes again, she traced her fingers down the toned pale skin, pausing for a moment when she reached a raised scar that stretched over the whole forearm. Careful not to wake the peaceful man beside her, she shifted slightly so she could see the ugly tattoo that gleaned black against ivory. A hideous serpent writhing around a ominous skull.

A few months ago, the sight of the Dark Mark would have repulsed her, but now it filled her with sadness for Draco that he would have this constant reminder of his troubled past. She placed her whole hand over the print, as though hoping her love alone would burn it away.

She suddenly noticed Draco’s body had stiffened against hers. Turning her head to him, she saw him staring at her, his silver eyes wide and fearful as she held her hand on the tattoo. Hermione wriggled herself around so they were chest to chest and leaned up to kiss his nose. He exhaled deeply and tightened his grip around her waist, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on hers.

“Good morning,” he murmured. “Sleep well?”

“Mmm,” she smiled. “Best sleep I’ve had in years.”

Draco shifted and rolled onto his back, stretching his arms behind his head.

“I wonder if we’ll get to spend much time together once we get back to Hogwarts,” he mused, staring at the canopy of his gargantuan bed.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that. I think the ministry is intent on keeping us all here until Lestrange is caught...” Hermione’s voice trailed off at the thought of the Death Eater.

“Well maybe he won’t get caught for a long time,” Draco said cheekily.

He sat up against the headboard and frowned slightly as he looked down at Hermione.

“What?” She asked, feeling self conscious all of a sudden.

“I was just thinking... well, I know so little about you. I mean, I know your personality, your temperament, and thanks to last night, I know every inch of your body.” He winked at Hermione, who blushed furiously. “You know so much about me, about my family. I want to know more about you.”

“What do you want to know?” Hermione knew she would keep no secrets from him, but felt guarded all the same.

“Will you tell me about... about your family?”

Hermione was surprised.

“You really want to know? They’re muggles, I didn’t think you would be interested,” she admitted.

“I’d love to know about them.” Draco wore an embarrassed expression. “I really don’t know anything about muggles, or their lives. Nothing at all.”

“Okay.” Hermione took a breath. The subject of her parents was one that she was so used to avoiding, as it brought her great sadness to think of them. “Well for starters, their names were Paul and Jean Granger. In the muggle world, they were dentists...”

Hermione spoke for a long while, Draco hanging onto her every word. She spoke about her childhood, her family pets, holidays she’d been on with her parents. She even talked about the troubles she had had in her muggle primary schools when she wasn’t in control of her magic, long before she knew what magic was.

“My parents were just so proud, and completely relieved when the ministry official brought my letter to the house and told us about Hogwarts and the Wizarding World. They’d been told by so many other muggles that I was dangerous and needed professional help, but they knew, deep down, I was just different, that something else was coming for me. But it certainly helped when it was confirmed!”

Hermione smiled ruefully at the memory of her parents faith in her, even though she had been so young.

Draco was frowning, as if mulling over her story.

“Hermione,” he said gently. “You seem to only speak of your parents in the past tense. Are they... are they not alive anymore? I remember overhearing you talk about them in 6th year. Did they die in the war?”

“No,” Hermione smiled sadly. “No, they’re not dead. They’re not exactly themselves though. Before I went with Harry and Ron to search for horcruxes I obliviated them, and had them realise a life long dream of moving abroad, so they would be away from here. They don’t know me anymore.”

Draco reaches up to wipe away the tears falling down Hermione’s cheeks.

“Was it to keep them safe? Do you know where they are?”

“Yes,” she sniffed. “I went to Australia to see them before we came back to Hogwarts. I’d already decided not to return their memories, it was too dangerous with all the Death Eaters still on the loose. And thank Merlin I didn’t, what with Lestrange out there again.

Anyway, I went to find them, they were sitting in a cafe in a beautiful coastal town. They looked so happy there, and even though I missed them so much but I just stayed away, watched them from a distance. I knew it was the right thing to do.”

Draco pulled Hermione to him, crushing her in a hug. He felt so much grief for the woman he held in his arms, and so much guilt about all that had been taken away from her because of wizards like his father. Wizards like him.

He bundled her into his chest and lay them both down, whispering a barely audible “I’m sorry” into her hair.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Draco. Not anymore”

Draco lifted her chin with his fingers and almost touched his lips to hers when the door opened.

Hermione squealed and dove backwards into the bed, yanking the covers over her face. She was blushing so angrily she felt like she was on fire.

“Mother,” Draco said irritably, adjusting the blanket over his lap. “I do think knocking would be in order, don’t you?”

Narcissa seemed lost for words, staring at the pile of blankets that Hermione was hiding under. Her expression was a mix of knowing and impending doom, and it made Draco feel uneasy.

“Ahem, yes well,” she stuttered. “Breakfast is ready for you in the dining room.”

She retreated, slamming the door behind her.

Draco chuckled darkly.

“You can come out Hermione, the threat is gone.”

“No thank you,” came Hermione’s muffled voice. “I think I will just stay here for the rest of my life.”

Draco climbed under the blanket, pulling it up and covering both of them like a tent. He raked his eyes over her face and body, with a hungry look in his eyes that made Hermione whimper slightly in anticipation.

“That’s fine by me.”

....................

An hour later, Hermione and Draco sat side by side at the dining table opposite Lucius and Narcissa. The latter were sat straight backed, barely touching their breakfast as they watched the two young people in front of them.

Seeming to mirror each other’s moves, Hermione and Draco stole what they thought were subtle smiles at each other, almost too distracted to eat. They didn’t realise they were being watched until Lucius cleated his throat slightly.

Hermione’s eyes snapped up to meet his, whose silver ones so resembled Draco’s. They certainly lacked the warmth though.

“I would like to speak to you, both of you, about the day Lestrange took you from Hogwarts, Draco. About how we got in so you may be more protected if you return to the school.” Lucius looked uneasy, as if he had unpleasant news to share with them.

“I was wondering about that,” Draco had a troubled expression. “Surely there aren’t any ways to just get into Hogwarts? I thought the cabinet would have been destroyed when Crabbe set the fiend fyre, did it survive then?”

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione interrupted.

“It definitely was destroyed, the Order went back to make sure of it. There are actually so many secret passage ways into the grounds. Before the war and all the heightened security, you could just fly over the boundaries. Harry and Professor Dumbledore did the night he... well you remember.” She lowered her eyes as Draco’s remorseful look, but carried on.

“In second year, Harry and Ron were even able to enter the grounds in a flying car.”

She smiled at the memory, but faltered and the surprise on all three Malfoys faces.

“Okay so other ways in, let’s see... there’s multiple passageways from Hogsmeade directly into the castle, you can portkey in and out, like when Barty Crouch Jr sent Harry to resurrect Voldemort-“ she ignored the collective gasps in the room, “- house elf’s can apparate so I’m sure they could transfer people too, like Dobby did at Malfoy Manor. There are multiple secret entries in the Forbidden Forrest. Hagrid even sneaked his giant brother Grawp in there once. And then there’s the shrieking shack and the whomping willow, which was put there so Remus Lupin could safely turn into a werewolf while he was attending Hogwarts. So really, the grounds are much less secure than you’d think. If Voldemort knew about all of those entries the year before, we might not have been so lucky,” she finished matter-of-factly, cutting into her bacon and toast.

Raising the fork to her mouth, she realised the room was still silent. She looked up to see three faces staring at her, mouth agape.

“What?” She said, self-consciously, suddenly aware of the secrets she had just blurted out the an ex- Death Eater.

“You‘ve known about all that, all these years?” Draco shot at her in disbelief.

“Yes?” Hermione replied wearily.

Draco sat back in his chair, astonished.

“I knew you three were good at getting yourselves in and out of trouble, but I didn’t know you were that good.”

Hermione blushed.

“Well. I didn’t exactly approve of all the rule breaking,” she said, smiling as she added, “most of the time.”

Draco turned to his father.

“So how did you get in then?”

“The shrieking shack,” Lucius said slowly, obviously taken aback by the girls insight.

“Ah, of course,” Hermione nodded. “Probably the most obvious, and easiest if you know how to stun that blasted tree.”

Narcissa left out a sharp laugh, before covering her hand with her mouth and turning to her son.

“We certainly went the long way about it in your 6th year, didn’t we Draco?” She said, her eyes glinting.

Draco sighed. The reminder of that dreadful year would have been unwelcome had the statement itself not been so true. It was bordering on amusing.

“Apparently we did,” he replied, leaning back and running a hand through his hair.

He glanced sideways at Hermione, who smiled at him gently as she slipped a hand under the table to hold his.

“I think I’ve had enough. Narcissa?” Lucius grumbled, standing and holding a hand out to his wife, clearly uncomfortable at Hermione and Draco’s affection for each other.

“Yes I believe I have to.”

They looked all too eager to leave the love birds and their mooning eyes to it, and slipped out of the room.

“Well we successfully scared them off,” Draco laughed.

“Draco,” Hermione said, her teeth troubling her bottom lip.

He turned to her, taking both her hands in his when he saw her worried face.

“Do you think they will truly accept this? Accept us?”

“I think they’ll accept that they really don’t have a say in the matter,” Draco leaned forward as he spoke, breathing in her scent as she sighed. He drew back suddenly. "Is that the chain from around my folder?"

Hermione pulled the necklace out from her sweater, and nodded.

"I put it on when we were getting dressed,"she confessed. "I transfigured it before I left to meet you in the quidditch tower, I wanted to show you what you opening up to me truly meant. I wanted to keep you close. Is that okay?"

Draco touched his forehead to hers and they stayed that way for several moments. He had no words for what the gesture meant to him, and he knew he didn't really need any.

“We should really go and see Harry and Ron, now you’re better. I’ve been neglecting them,” Hermione spoke softly.

“And Luna,” Draco seemed cheered at the thought.

“And Luna,” Hermione laughed. “Well they’re all just across the road, should we head on over?”

“Soon,” Draco whispered, as he pulled her too him until she was sitting on his lap, and gave her a heart-stopping kiss. At that moment, Hermione would have been happy to not leave the house at all.

She pulled back, grinning slightly.

“We really should go and make sure those Gryffindors and Slytherins haven’t killed each other already, packed into the house like that.”

Draco groaned but nodded in agreement. Together they left 13 Grimmauld Place, and walked hand in hand across the road as number 12 materialised before them.

……………………….

A Worthy Man

Hermione sat with Harry and Ron in the warm conservatory of 12 Grimmauld Place, watching Draco, Luna and Neville chat happily as they sat on a rug outside in the brisk winter sun.

“I can’t believe we never thought of that before,” Harry said, baffled, after Hermione had recounted the story of how the Death Eaters has gained entry into Hogwarts. “The shrieking shack has never been guarded, even after Voldemort killed Snape there. Of course the Death Eaters would have known about it! How could we have been so careless!”

“None of us thought about it mate,” Ron said sombrely as Hermione nodded. “And to be fair, we had enough going on. The Order looked like they were all over it.”

They sat in silence for a moment as they watched trio chatting happily in the garden.

“We missed you over here, Hermione,” said Ron, squeezing an arm around her shoulders affectionately. “It hasn’t been too bad living with the Slytherins though. I can’t see Kingsley letting us go back to Hogwarts anytime soon. He gave Harry and me a right bollocking for leaving the house when we got back from finding Malfoy!”

Harry groaned at the memory.

“He said he might lock us up just to make sure we stayed put. Thought better of it though, thank Merlin.”

“I really thought this was all over,” said Hermione wistfully. “We may as well not have even gone back to Hogwarts.”

Harry shifted uncertainly in his chair, clearly wanting to tell her something.

“Hermione,” he started slowly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but obviously all this happened and it didn’t seem like the right time-“

“Spit it out Harry!” Hermione laughed. “Oh Harry, Ginny isn’t pregnant is she?”

“She better not be,” muttered Ron.

“No!” Harry went pale at the stormy look he received from Ron. “No it’s just, before we went back to Hogwarts, Kingsley asked me to join the auror training program.”

“Harry that’s amazing!” Hermione squealed, clapping her hands together. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I knew you would tell me to go,” Harry admitted.

“Of course I would! You’ve wanted to be an auror for years! When would your training start?”

“He wanted me to join instead of going back to Hogwarts, but I just needed a break you know? A break from fighting. Well, he asked me again on the train and I stuck to my decision. But yesterday I received a letter asking me once again to reconsider, and I really think I’m going to do it. I need to get out there and helped destroy Tom Riddles legacy, I can’t sit back at Hogwarts while there’s so many Death Eaters out there. There’s more. He offered places in the training for you and Ron as well.”

“Oh,” Hermione murmured. “I see. What are you going to do, Ron?”

Ron looked anxious to tell her his decision but couldn’t quite keep the excitement from his eyes.

“I’m going to do it Hermione. Who knows if the chance will still be there when we finish Hogwarts? It was too much to hope for that we would actually get to relax after the last hell of a year, but at least we’ll be out there, doing something!”

“I guess you’re right.” Hermione took a deep breath. “But I’m not going to join you. No, listen! I’m not saying I’m going back to Hogwarts, but I never wanted to be an auror! I never wanted to fight. I know neither of you wanted to either, but you still would both have ended up as aurors. It’s where you’re meant to be.”

“What are you going to do then?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Maybe there’s another place for me at the ministry. I could talk to Professor McGonagall, or even Kingsley. But you’re right, Hogwarts isn’t the place for us anymore.”

Ron looked out the window and cocked his head in thought.

“Hear me out Harry, do you think they would let Malfoy join the program?”

Harry snorted, as if he couldn’t possibly be serious.

“They wouldn’t let him, would they?” Hermione followed Ron’s gaze to wear Neville and Draco were laughing heartily at something Luna had said. Probably about some obscure magical creature.

Harry frowned.

“They might. Merlin knows there’s no going back for him. And his personal history with general criminals and intel with Death Eaters might just be invaluable. Maybe even Blaise and Theo, Pansy too.”

Hermione was deep in thought about the way the conversation had headed. If her friends would consider such a thing, maybe the Ministry would too. Maybe the world truly was changing.

“Okay, put it to Kingsley. But let’s not tell Draco or the others about it yet. They might feel pressured to accept, or get their hopes up if Kingsley says no.”

................

Draco had been spending all of his time with Hermione and her friends, and of course his fellow Slytherins. He had even taken to staying at Harry’s home with Hermione over night, at Harry’s reluctant invitation. It suited him very well, as his parents were being uncharacteristically affectionate to each other whenever Draco was in the room. Luna had joined Neville to visit his grandmother, and he could see that Theo, Pansy and Blaise were apprehensive about not having her as an easy go between.

He struggled somewhat to let go of old habits when it came to Harry and Ron, with more than a few snide comments passing between them. Their small arguments held none of the animosity however that had fuelled their constant fighting in their years at Hogwarts.

With the absence of background conflict, the three found that they had much in common. They shared the same dark humour, and even the same interests. When they had come to terms with each of their differing league teams that they supported, quidditch content was an endless easy discussion. Draco also played a good game of chess, much better than Harry, he was pleased to admit. He was less pleased that Ron absolutely thrashed him in every game. They were crowded into the cosy lounge room, two weeks after Draco’s return, on armchairs, couches or just lying on the floor in front of the fire. Draco was playing such a match with Ron over the coffee table, his brow furrowed in frustration when Ron’s knight smashed his queen to pieces.

“Did you know, Draco, that Ron defeated a giant chess game guarding the philosophers stone enchanted by McGonagall in our first year?” Theo said, still in awe of the many adventures Ron had recounted to him in the last few days over chess matches.

“Yeah right,” Draco snorted, but his grin fell short at the serious but somewhat amused looks on the Golden Trios faces. “Wait, you’re serious? How?”

“I forget that we never really spoke about it all to anyone, did we?” Harry grinned at his two closest friends, Ginny laughing in the background.

“‘It all’?” Draco looked around the room, feeling like he was the only left out of a secret. To his relief, Pansy and Blaise looked blankly back at him. “You mean there’s more?”

“Buckle up, Malfoy. It’s a bumpy road that you’re about to go down,” Ginny directed over her shoulder, her head buried in Witch Weekly magazine.

“Hermione, you go,” said Ron.

“Yeah you probably remember more of the details,” agreed Harry. He looked as if he had had to recount the stories far too many times for his liking.

“Okay, where to start? At the beginning I suppose. Well it started with the troll on hallowe’en in first year...”

And so Hermione talked, reminisced, and laughed as she told the stunned Slytherins all of the journeys she had been on with Harry and Ron, usually fraught with peril.

She told them about Fluffy the three headed dog, the trapdoor and the challenges he guarded, Ron’s spectacular defeat of the chess board and Hermione’s aptitude as a skilled logician, figuring out Snapes potion riddle.

They all laughed at the horror on the Slytherins faces as they told them how they had infiltrated their common room with the use of polyjuice potion in their second year. Harry and Ron filled in the blanks for that year, has Hermione had spent much of it petrified, and Ginny possessed. They grinned at the stunned look on Draco’s face when they told him about the Tom Riddle horcrux, slaying the basilisk with The Sword of Gryffindor, and that Lockhart lost his mind after trying to perform a memory charm on the boys with Ron’s broken wand.

“That was all in two years? We were 12 years old, for Merlins sake!” Pansy cried.

“Didn’t you save Sirius Black from about 200 dementors in third year?” Asked Blaise, on the edge of his seat. “How did he get away from the castle?”

“We didn’t... and then we did...” said Hermione quizzically.

Draco raises an eyebrow at her.

“Well, I had a time turner so I could attend double or sometimes triple the classes in the same hour,” she explained, blushing. “Remember Buckbeak?”

It was Draco’s turn to blush. He had made rather a ridiculously big deal about the hippogriff being punished after he had taunted it into attacking him, leading to him having a broken arm, and an even more broken ego after it had escaped.

“No way,” he said again, eyes wide. “You lot were behind that? And the Ministry gave you a time turner?”

“Of course they did,” Hermione said simply. “Well, not long after I slapped you that day, Buckbeak was executed. And then we got beat up by the wimping willow and Ron got bitten by Sirius and we found out Peter Pettigrew was actually Ron’s rat-“

“What?! That creep, I knew he was off-“

“And then Remus nearly killed us!” Hermione ignored the gasps in the room. “Anyway, we used the time turner, stole Buckbeak, Harry saved his past self and Sirius from the dementors, and, well, that’s it for that year really.”

Hermione was met with silence.

“Wait till they hear about the Marauders Map,” sniggered Ron as he took a swig of butterbeer, and sent his queen to knock Draco’s unsuspecting king from the board.

“The who-“

Draco’s question was interrupted by a stack of letters whizzing through the fire place, the flames turning emerald green for a split second.

Harry caught the letters in mid air as if they were just another snitch, and looked at who they were addressed to.

“They’re for all of you,” he motioned to Draco, Theo, Pansy and Blaise. “From the Ministry.”

“It’s about our sentence,” whispered Pansy, before she reached for her letter. The others were silent, and remained so as they scanned the contents of their letters. Hermione glanced sideways at her friends.

“I don’t understand,” muttered Draco, a frown on his face he looked up at his friends. Theo and Blaise has the same bewildered expression on their face as Draco, and Pansy has let out a short sob.

“What is it?” Hermione asked nervously.

Draco passed her the letter and she read aloud to Harry and Ron.

“Dear Mr Malfoy, we’re are writing to inform of changes to your previously agreed sentence to serve three years supervision confined to the grounds of Hogwarts school... Are yours all the same?” When the three other recipients nodded she continued. “We are pleased to offer you a position in the auror training program at The Ministry of Magic training base, where you will complete 12 months of training, with practical field work starting immediately, followed by a minimum of five years of active duty, during which time you will no longer be under curfew and will be able to live at your own residency... Draco,” she finishes with a whisper.

After a few moments, Pansy broke the silence.

“We get to work at the Ministry, we get to be aurors!” Her face broke into a smile as tears fell down her cheeks.

“Does this mean we’re free? We’re not in prison anymore?” Blaise looked as if he couldn’t believe the words he was speaking.

“I’m going to write back and accept.” Theo had barely finished speaking before he had left the room, Pansy and Blaise at his heels.

Seeing Hermione share a pleased look with Harry and Ron, Draco realised what must have happened, and the sheer influence the three young wizards now had.

“It was Ron’s idea,” Hermione said sheepishly, seeing the look on Draco’s face. “Harry wrote to Kingsley and made the suggestion.”

“I just told him I’d only agree to start the training early if he gave you all the opportunity to do the same,” Harry said, shrugging as if it were no big deal.

Draco, almost overwhelmed with gratitude, stood and walked over to where Harry sat, arm outstretched. Harry rose to meet him and took his hand in his and shook it, a silent agreement passing between them. In that moment, something truly changed in him and Draco vowed to Merlin he would do everything in his power to be worthy to stand side by side with man in front of him.


	11. A Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah, boy, you’ll find out in due course. You think you were here on a special mission? Without anymore training? I’m well aware the Minister thinks you’re ready to be let off the leash, but I say different! You’re naught more than angry boys, who think you have everything to prove to the world! You might have been key players in one or two battles, spent time with a few dark or great wizards, but you don’t know what’s out there in the world! You don’t know what you’re up against, you’re not prepared.”

As the next few weeks flew by, Draco threw himself into the auror training program with his classmates and friends. Before the great war, he had very little ambition of having a career of any kind, as the Malfoy fortune had negated any need for such a thing. Still, in his youth when he had allowed his imagination to wander, he had often thought about what it would be like to be out there in the world.

The opportunity that had been given to the Slytherins was not something they had taken on lightly, and all were determined to prove themselves worthy of the challenge. Besides, they all had their own scores to settle with many a dark wizard, and what better place to see those through than in the auror department?

As none of the group had yet completed their N.E.W.T.s, the first week of training was meant to be purely theory, though Draco felt strongly that their instructor was already confident in their abilities as, by the end of their class every day, the retired auror simply had them demonstrating complex defensive spells that they had learnt in the years before. Harry, of course, blew the others out of the water where that was concerned. Neville had joined them after the first couple of days, and it really dawned on them how much they had all grown over the years. No One had any doubt that this was a group of exceptional young wizards, and excited whispers soon spread through the department about the first group of new aurors to begin training in over four years. Draco felt a stab in his heart whenever anyone mentioned the brilliant young witch Nymphadora Tonks, the very last student to qualify in the department. He knew little of his estranged cousin, and felt a great deal of guilt for her death at the hands of Bellatrix.

In the following week, their days were split into two parts, with Duelling in the Dark and Stealth and Disguise seminars in the mornings, and Resilience Training in the afternoons. They learnt to duel in total darkness, to transfigure and disguise themselves without being noticed, and to heal themselves quickly in precarious situations. They found the last part the least fun, as they all had to recover themselves from real injuries that they sustained in the Duelling in the Dark practice sessions.

By the third week, all of them were excited to begin their first lot of field training. They were mostly split up for work experience in different divisions for which their aptitude tests had shown they were most suited. Pansy and Blaise were sent to work in the investigation division, much to their relief. They both had a keen mind for strategy, but neither had the heart for constant fighting. Theo was recruited by the Witch Watchers team after the head auror put a word in for him with the Minister. Their instructors had noticed early on his advanced skill at concealment and disguise. Neville was swept away by the Hit Wizard division, something that surprised a great many, as he had shown such skill in defensive magic in the midst of their training that he was wanted on the front lines immediately.

Harry and Ron were met with great enthusiasm by the auror department. They already knew most of them on a first name basis, as many were also Order members. The older wizards were standoffish towards Draco to begin with, so for the first few days in the office he mostly kept to himself, doing as he was told and speaking only when spoken to.

Though he was kept constantly busy in his training, Hermione was never far from his mind. The two of them had seen very little of each other for several weeks, and Draco found himself missing her. He often left the house before she woke each morning, and returned long after she had gone to sleep. His main solace getting him through each day was their sleepy embrace when she would turn to him in the middle of the night, and they would get lost in each other’s bodies again, each time as explosive as the first.

On one of these nights, shortly before Christmas, Draco was lying in Hermione’s bed with his eyes closed, one arm behind his head and the other wrapped lazily around her shoulders. Her body was pressed against his and her fingers were softly tracing the scars on his chest from Harry’s sectumsempra attack almost two years prior.

“Draco…”

“Mmm?” he breathed into her hair. He knew that in a few short hours he would once again be whisked away from her, this time for several days on his first field mission as an auror in training. He wanted to soak up every part of her before he had to leave.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about something lately…” she murmured into his collarbone.

Draco rolled over so they were face to face, and pulled her closer. He saw how her eyebrows were knitted together as if she had spent a great deal of time trying to solve some puzzle.

“What is it?”

Hermione pulled the necklace that she had created from the golden thread from Draco’s black folder, which had long been destroyed, up from her bare chest.

“I keep thinking about this, and the dragon. I still don’t know why the dragon has lasted as long as it has, and something your mother said about the chain, or rather something she didn’t say, has been bothering me.”

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and blinked at Draco, whose hair was almost silver in the moonlight. She pulled the crystal dragon from her bedside and studied it in her palm.

Draco rolled over in the bed to lay on his back, squeezing his eyes shut. He had, of course, asked his mother how Hermione had managed to break the protection charm on the chain. She had reacted in a most peculiar way, spluttering that the magic must have faded and just to forget about it before hurrying out of the room. He didn’t believe it for a moment, his mother’s magic was far too powerful. He was certain he was as in the dark about why the chain didn’t cause Hermione to implode as Hermione herself was.

Somehow, she had caused the enchantment to break, and he was desperate to know why. The crystal dragon, however, was another matter. Draco had decided almost immediately after his conversation with Sybil Trelawney that he would not speak of it to Hermione.

He knew, more than he knew anything else in the world, that he truly loved the girl laying beside him, and while he could never believe she had any reason to return those feelings, he felt deep inside him that she did. He didn’t want to ruin it all by making her feel as if she never had any choice in the matter, as if she was just living out a story that someone else had written for her. Knowing her disdain for divination, he decided to keep it to himself.

Draco rolled to Hermione again, resting his head on her stomach. He felt a strange sense of belonging as he did so, and felt the urge to kiss her there. He smiled up at her when she giggled shyly, before kissing her stomach again.

“Don’t,” Hermione gasped, fighting laughter. “It tickles, and I don’t want you looking too closely at my belly rolls!”

“What belly rolls!” Draco drew back, unable to contain his amusement. “You are the tiniest woman I’ve ever met!” He hungrily examined her body, searching for the offending roll she spoke of. He did notice that she had put on the slightest bit of weight since he had first seen her naked body, her stomach jutting out almost unnoticeably, but her certainly wasn’t going to tell her that. Besides, what did she think would happen eating three good meals a day after almost a year of living on barely any food while on the run? He turned serious then, running his thumb over her cheek. “You are so beautiful.”

Hermione blushed scarlet, a bashful smile taking over her face as she turned it into his hand.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing Draco Malfoy calling me beautiful,” she whispered.

“I’ll have to make sure I tell you often then,” He said, leaning up to kiss her softly. He groaned as he heard movement on the stairs near their bedroom door. “It can’t be time to leave already!”

Hermione sighed and brought her body down to his level, wrapping her arms and legs around him as if she would never let him go.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she sighed into his neck.

Draco kissed the top of her head and it took all of his strength to pull himself away from her and climb out of the bed. She sat up as he pulled on his cargo pants and heavy boots, and he nearly came apart at the sight of her on the edge of the large bed, the soft sheets falling messily around her hips, her milky white breasts bare. Her hair, tangled and wild from their night together, hung about her head and over her shoulders, shining golden in the light that was beginning to seep through the window. She looked like an entity from another world, too exquisite to truly exist. He dropped to his knees at the beside and buried his head in her lap, moaning indistinguishably as she ran her fingers through his hair on the back of his head. He raised his eyes to hers and thought he would never be able to leave her side, an invisible force whispering _stay_ in the back of his mind.

“You need to go,” Hermione whispered. She stood, pulling him up from where he was kneeling and pulling a robe over her body. She led him to the door and opened it.

Standing there in the doorway, Draco didn’t care that Hermione’s friends could see them through the hall. He kissed her with a hard desperation, knowing that he would not be able to so much as write to her until their mission was complete, wherever he was or wherever that may be. He felt her press something solid to his chest, and his eyes widened when he folded his hand around the crystal dragon. The image of Hermione, and older version of her, swam in his vision, laughing and twirling. He snapped back to the present as Hermione slipped her hand away, letting go of the figure.

“Draco-“

“Hermione, I need to tell you someth- “

Draco was interrupted by Ron thundering down the stairs.

“Blimey, Draco, Harry! We’re going to be late at the meeting point!” He shouted, pulling a thick grey sweater, similar to the one Draco

wore, over his head, Harry hurrying out of the kitchen as he spoke.

“Put him down Hermione, we need to get going,” Harry laughed, throwing a piece of toast at Ron, who manfully shoved it into his mouth.

Hermione turned red and nodded at Draco, who kissed her again, trying to express the promise that when he got back, he would explain everything. A second later he felt himself being dragged to the fire place, and with one last burning look, disappeared in the emerald flames.

………………………..

The next week went by in a blur. It was Christmas Eve and Hermione still hadn’t heard anything of Draco, or Harry and Ron. Every morning she met Ginny in the kitchen in 12 Grimmauld Place, asking if her flame haired friend had received a letter from anyone, and the answer was always the same, a sad shake of the head. Hermione could see that Ginny was struggling being away from Harry, even after a few days. This time a year ago Ginny didn’t even know if Harry had been alive, or her brother. They tried to fill their time going over the many documents that Professor McGonagall had sent them over the last few weeks. At first, the headmistress had tried in vain to convince the young witches to return to their schooling. When they refused, she had sent out letters of recommendation to every ministry department there was, and offers of traineeships had come swarming in. There were more than a few ministry personnel eager to take the last member of the Golden Trio under their wing. 

Hermione was sat in the cosy sitting room in one of Draco’s black sweaters that was much too large for her, sipping a hot chocolate and flicking through the various ministry pamphlets when she stopped at the letter she had received from Kingsley the day before. After four days of no news, she had written to the minister almost begging for any scrap of information she could get. As the boys’ mission had been top secret, they had not been able to tell Ginny or Hermione where they were going, but they had believed they would be home by now.

Touching her fingers to her necklace, Hermione read the letter for the tenth time, which stated with regret that there was no news for her. She sighed and swung her legs over the arm of the chair, throwing the pile of papers to the ground as Ginny walked in.

“You look like you got about as much sleep as me,” Hermione smiled at her friend sadly. “Keep posistive, they’ll be home before we know it.”

“I know,” Ginny said glumly, laying across the couch opposite Hermione. “They probably aren’t even getting in on whatever action is happening. I just want them safe.”

Hermione flicked her wand towards the fireplace, giving the flames a bit more life.

“We always knew they couldn’t do anything else while there were still death eaters out there though,” she said.

“But when the death eaters are all caught and in prison, what then?” Ginny’s tone was sharp and Hermione saw tears glistening in her eyes. “There will always be dark wizards, Hermione. Harry will never stop fighting, will he?”

Hermione moved over to the couch and shifted Ginny’s legs so she could comfort her.

“I don’t know. It’s part of him you know?” she said softly, patting her shoulder. “But this time, he’s not just a young boy against an impossible enemy, with just me and Ron behind him. He and Ron are men now, skilled wizards, with an army beside them. And who in their right mind would let the chosen one and his best friend get into harms way?”

Ginny laughed, pulling her dressing gown tightly around her as she sat up.

“Who has ever been able to keep Harry out of harms way?” she smiled back. “Are you worried? About Draco?”

“I’m not worried that he won’t be able to protect himself, whatever situation they all find themselves in.” Hermione frowned. “I’m more worried that he won’t get the same treatment as Harry and Ron, that he might not be as valuable to them. So if something were to happen, the aurors might not have his back.”

“A few weeks ago, Hermione, I thought you were completely barmy letting Draco into your life.” It was Ginny’s turn to comfort her friend. She patted her on the hand as she spoke. “I didn’t understand. I still don’t. But getting to know him, here, seeing him changed and how he and Harry and even Ron get along, it’s like he should have been one of us from the start. If things had been different, if any one of us had made an effort years ago, then maybe he would have been. The aurors, the order members he’s training with, they’ll see that too. They’ll see how invaluable he is gong to be to them. And best bet that Harry and Ron care far too much about you to let anything happen to him!”

“I hope you’re right. I just hope he doesn’t feel like he has too much to prove and does something stupid trying to be a hero.”

“Hermione, if we know anything about that git it’s that he is not stupid!” Ginny laughed again. “Anyway! They wouldn’t want us to just sit here moping! Are you coming with me to the burrow today? I think Luna will be there too.”

“Of course I am!” Hermione was excited to see the rest of the Weasley clan who had become such a large part of her own life. “Should we get ready then?”

She stood up quickly and swayed slightly, a wave of nausea washing over her. Ginny caught her arm, standing in case she had to catch her.

“Oh, Hermione, are you okay?” Concern dripped from Ginny’s voice. “You are positively green, and it is not a pretty colour!”

“Ugh, no, I’m okay now,” Hermione grimaced, thankful that the sickly feeling had gone as quickly as it had come. “I must have stood too fast. Fatigue and stress aren’t too good for the body!”

“Are you sure?” Ginny was studying her now, and let her go reluctantly.

“I’m fine!” Hermione walked steadily to the hallway and called over her shoulder, “we better get going if your mother is expecting us!”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want her to send out a search party when we’re three minutes late,” Ginny grumbled as she followed her from the room.

Half an hour later, after a long warm shower, Hermione had finally shaken the clamminess that had come over her in the sitting room. She looked at herself in the mirror whilst in the nude and frowned and her body. She was certainly healthier now she had put on some weight since the end of the war, but she wasn’t sure about her new shape. Her breasts were fuller than they had ever been, and her hips seemed wider. She shook her head, remembering Draco’s words before he was whisked away for his mission. _You are beautiful,_ she thought. Dressing in comfortable jeans and snow boots, she made her way to the door to meet Ginny, grabbing Draco’s over sized jumper and pulling it over her head as she did.

………………

Draco rubbed his gloved hands together in the cold air as he stomped the snow off of his heavy boots outside the tent he shared with Harry, Ron and Neville.

“Malfoy! Where have you been?” Ron shouted from his bunker, tossing his copy of the daily prophet to the side as he sat up. “It’s bloody freezing out there!”

“Literally,” Draco shuddered as he walked over to the table, gratefully taking the mug of hot black coffee that Neville had poured him.

“Just scouting around the place, trying to work out where in hell they’ve taken us.”

Harry conjured another log for the fire in the centre of the magically enlarged tent, shaking his head.

“Three days we’ve been here, and nothing. No information, we don’t know where we are…” He trailed off.

“At least when they’re feeding us,” Ron chuckled. “Remember last year Harry? It was days sometimes before we would find something to eat.”

“And when we did find something, Hermione usually burnt it. Thank Merlin your mum taught you to cook Ron.” Harry laughed along with him.

Draco was surprised.

“I thought muggles were good at cooking?” he mused.

“Ah but she isn’t a muggle, is she?” Ron smiled. “She’s too clever, and she struggled a lot before she found out about magic. She told me once her head was always too busy to learn many normal muggle things. My mum made us all learn to cook and clean the muggle way, though I definitely wasn’t very good at it.”

“We always just had house elves,” Draco frowned. He had assumed that the Weasleys would have had one too. “I thought I was lucky to be able to tie my own shoelaces by the time I went to Hogwarts.”

He grinned as the three other men howled with laughter, sitting back in the uncomfortable camping chair.

“When will they tell us what we’re doing here?” They all looked at Neville, a puzzling look on his face. “If we were just training, why can’t we write home?”

Draco considered the man sat beside him. He knew how Neville was feeling, and every so often felt a pang from Luna. He had come to truly care for the girl, and through her feelings for Neville, felt closer to him too. Even without his strange connection with Neville’s girlfriend, he understood. He missed Hermione greatly, as if it were causing physical pain to be apart from her.

“I think we’re somewhere in the Scottish Highlands,” he said, trying to distract himself from his feelings. “Not near Hogwarts, I’ve flown over those mountains enough times to know that.”

“We’ve tried to have a look around too,” said Harry, nodding at Ron.

“Me too,” added Neville, grimacing. “I thought I recognised a spot when I hiked a mile or so away, tried apparating and nearly splinched into a tree. There’s something else going on here, something they haven’t told us.”

At that moment, an aged and weathered auror who they knew only as ‘the commander’, flung open the entrance of the tent, cold air and snow billowing inside. He was a large, imposing man, and walked with a limp from some battle long ago. His most unnerving feature however was that where one eye was a warm, almost inviting chocolate brown, the other was a piercing blue. Draco felt as if it could see right through him.

“Boys,” he said gruffly, and they all stood to attention. “You may be wondering what we’re doing here. As you know we’ve been after all those mongrels that escaped the ministry’s clutches after the final battle. You’ve all shown skill for the fight far beyond your years and now it’s time to really put you to the test.”

Harry stepped forward, his face hard.

“We’re ready to bring them to justice, sir.”

“The time for that will come soon enough, Potter.” The old wizard replied.

“Sir, where are we? Why are we here?” They all turned to Neville, who wore a stony expression.

The commander sighed.

“Ah, boy, you’ll find out in due course. You think you were here on a special mission? Without anymore training? I’m well aware the Minister thinks you’re ready to be let off the leash, but I say different! You’re naught more than angry boys, who think you have everything to prove to the world! You might have been key players in one or two battles, spent time with a few dark or great wizards, but you don’t know what’s out there in the world! You don’t know what you’re up against, you’re not prepared.”

He stepped forward until he was nose to nose with Neville, who held his stare with narrowed eyes.

“You’re tough, boy, I’ll give you that,” the old man muttered. “Tougher than a few years ago, I’d wager. As I said, the time will come for you to get out there and round up all them baddies, but for now…” He glared around the room; a manic smile was plastered on his face that made Draco’s stomach twist uncomfortably. “Now it’s time to see what you’re really made of.”

With that, the commander stormed out of the room, leaving cold air in his wake. Ron hurried out behind him as the others turned to look at each other.

“What in hell is going on?” Harry muttered into his hands as Ron burst back into the tent.

“They’re gone, they’re all gone!” he shouted.

“What?” Draco said, looking between him and the entrance. He followed Neville and Harry outside into the bitter cold, where night was beginning to fall.

Sure enough, where there were previously a dozen tents identical to their own, there were now none. There was no sign that any other soul had been there at all. Draco felt his fingers grow numb almost instantly and grabbed a handful of Neville’s sweater, pulling him back inside.

“Come on, we aren’t going to get any answers out here!” Draco shouted over the wind that seemed to howl in desperation. Once inside, he brushed the snow from his clothes and hurried to where Ron was frantically poking at the fire with his wand.

Harry slumped down on a chair, a bewildered look on his face.

“I don’t get it,” Ron said, frowning at Harry. “Why wouldn’t they just tell us we’re here to do more training? They didn’t have to leave us to freeze.”

“Maybe it’s to see how we cope in extreme conditions,” Draco offered, but he was as confused as the rest of them. There was something unsettlingly familiar about the commander.

“He’s a crazy old loon,” Neville grumbled. “I spent a week with the Hit Wizard department before we came here and he was just always raving. ‘Constant vigilance’, he reckoned.”

Harry flew to his feet, startling Ron who nearly fell into the fire.

“Constant vigilance!” he yelled.

“Yeah,” said Draco, confused at Harry’s outburst. “That’s what he just said.”

“No, don’t you get it?” There was a knowing glint in Harry’s eyes. He groaned when they didn’t catch on. “Didn’t you think he was weirdly familiar? Who does he sound like? _‘Constant vigilance’,”_ he repeated.

“You can’t be serious,” Draco said, licking his lips nervously. “He died remember?”

“Who are we talking about here?” Ron asked, his eyes flitting between the two.

Neville had gone pale, realising what Harry was getting at.

“I’m very serious.” Harry’s face was hard.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Ron stood up, irritated he was once again out of the loop.

“The commander,” said Neville slowly. They all turned to look at him. “It’s Mad-Eye.”

Harry nodded.

“Mad-Eye is alive. And you can bet whatever he’s got planned for us, we won’t be home for Christmas.”


	12. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sickening, constant in-between of light and dark fought for dominance around him as he fought to open his eyes, and he became encased on all sides by a crystal cage that seemed to be breathing the very storm that was pulling the air from his lungs. Words were ringing in his ears as darkness finally won the battle… a child…  
> A Child…

“I still reckon he’s barking.”

Draco looked up from his messy task of gutting his freshly caught fish, a grimace on his face. It was a job he had tried many times over the last few weeks just using his wand, and each time had been left with barely more than a couple of mouthfuls. Eventually he had conceded and resigned himself to the fact that he would have to get his hands dirty, literally and figuratively.

“What? Who?” He shot back at Ron distractedly, turning his attention back to his dinner and shivering against the wind. Even with his thick jacket and extra warmth spells, the air around the glassy lake bit against his raw and chapped cheeks. It was just the two of them, taking their turn to explore the wilderness in which they had been left. They had quickly found that most of their magic was useless, and had gotten on with the job of figuring out exactly what their job was meant to be. They had all agreed not to apparate after several nasty splinches, so travelling on foot was their only option. Crouched outside their tent that they had messily pitched by the water, about two miles from their original camp, they were just as in the dark about their whereabouts as they were when the Commander had stormed out into the night.

“Harry!” Ron replied sharply, busy cleaning his own catch. “Thinking Mad-Eye’s behind all this rubbish. Just his mind playing tricks, feeling guilty-“

Ron’s breath caught. Draco looked up in time to catch the flame haired man staring over the water, blinking as if ashamed of his own thoughts.

“Why would he be feeling guilty about that?” Draco was curious. He, of course, wasn’t a part of the group of Death Eaters that had ambushed the members of the Order of the Phoenix delivering Harry from his muggle home to safety, but the story of how the Dark Lord had sent Alastor Moody plunging to his death was one he had heard many times. “He wasn’t even there, was he?”

“No,” Ron said lowly. “He was with Hagrid, going in a different direction. He went to your aunts’, Andromeda’s, actually. As for the guilt, he knows that it all isn’t truly on him, he was just the vital piece you know? In the end, he had to get to You Know Who himself and it’s just always going to be there in the back of his mind that a lot of good witches and wizards were lost to get him there. Not one of them would ever hesitate doing it again.”

Draco nodded, swallowing down the lump of regret and grief in his throat. Images, faces loomed in his minds eye. _Dumbledore, Burbage, Luna, Nymphadora…_ He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Merlin!” He exclaimed as his knife slipped over his fish and made a deep gash in the palm of his hand. This was followed by a few choice swear words that would have earned him a sharp slap from his mother. He threw his catch into the bucket by his feet and pulled out his wand. “I agree though,” he said, wincing as he moved wand over his palm, the wound closing up before his eyes. “I can see the resemblance between Mad-Eye and the Commander, but they’re all like that aren’t they? All the old aurors. All rough and scary, and the one as old as those two have seen more than enough battles to sent them mental. Anyway,” he added as a memory burned in his head. “The Dark Lord sent Mad-Eye falling a hundred feet from his broom, and his body certainly looked like that was the case when Rodolphus and Yaxley brought his body to the manor- “ 

“What?” Draco saw Ron staring at him, eyes wide. “You lot kept his body?”

“Well, no, _they_ didn’t keep it.” Draco put an emphasis on ‘they’, wishing he could remove himself completely from the ‘you lot’ grouping. “They took his eye, Yaxley took it to the ministry to use for Merlin knows what- “

“We know,” Ron growled in a low tone. “They used it to keep an eye the lower workers, under Umbridge. Now that was satisfying, when Harry stunned that old toad. So then what? What did they do with his body?”

“I don’t know,” Draco answered honestly. “I thought I heard at the time that Fenrir Greyback had asked to take it.” Both men shuddered in with shared anger and disgust at the thought. “But I can tell you now, there was no life left in that body, not by a long shot.”

The unlikely pair sat in silence for a few moments, both giving up on their fish as the flesh had started to become frozen and unyielding. Ron joined Draco beside the tent and sat on and empty crate and let out a short laugh. Draco raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“Things have certainly changed, Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled and shifted the pebbles around at his feet.

“You’re not wrong, Weasley. And,” he paused, frowning as he tried to find the right words. “It doesn’t bother you? Me and Hermione?”

Ron seemed to take a moment to think about his answer. He let out and icey breath, throwing a rock into the water and watching as it sent ripples through it, disturbing the perfect glass-like sheet.

“No,” he replied, as if he had just then decided that it didn’t. “Don’t get me wrong, I was surprised. But I learnt a pretty long time ago that any decision Hermione made was usually the right one. Besides, seeing you two together, as sickeningly sweet as it is,” he added in a mocking tone, “I cant seem to think of a reason against it, even when I try.”

“I always thought you two would end up together,” Draco said carefully.

“Yeah, you and everyone else mate.” Ron laughed then, at some distant memory or other. “I think we will always _be_ together, in a sense. Not in the way you and her are together, or Harry and Ginny. But she was meant to find me and Harry, all those years ago, like she was meant to save us or something. Maybe she was meant to find you, too.”

“Yeah,” Draco muttered, turning his wand over in his hands. He thought of the crystal dragon stashed safely in his backpack, and the chain from his diary that Hermione hd been wearing around her neck when he had left her in Grimmauld Place all those weeks ago. He felt the familiar uncomfortable pang of longing in his heart as Hermione’s face flashed through his mind like lightning. “Maybe.”

“Who would have thought, the weasel and the ferret…” Ron trailed off, an amused expression on his face.

“Well, they are pretty similar animals,” Draco pointed out. He looked out over the water and noticed that the light had become dim, and, as it had done for the previous three nights, ice was quickly making its way across the lake, freezing it solid. The first night they had made camp there they had nearly been caught out as the ice had reached the dry land, only just making it inside their tent as the nightly storm crashed over them, freezing the walls around them until the sun rose the next morning. Realising there was something magical about the storm, they stayed put, but so far their investigations had revealed nothing, apart from the silver light that seemed to glow from the centre of the lake soon before it froze over. “That’s our cue.”

Both young men stood, pulling their jackets tighter around themselves as they made their way into the tent. Within seconds of the door closing behind them, the silver wind wrapped around the tent, sealing them inside.

……………………………………………

3am…. 4am… 5am…

Tossing and turning, Hermione watched the hours tick by as sleep evaded her. As the dim light bled lightly through the patchwork drapes of Ron’s old bedroom at the Burrow, she sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed as she groaned in frustration. Her insomnia had gotten the better of her in the weeks since her men had been sent away on their mission. Now, nearing the end of February with still no news from them or the aurors office, she was reaching the end of her tether. The stress and fatigue were leaving her body sore and swollen, with nausea becoming a regular part of her day. She wasn’t alone in this. Ginny had taken to spending her days sitting curled up in an armchair near the kitchen window wrapped in an over-large jumper and covered in blankets, staring painfully at the sky as if willing an owl to appear.

Hermione padded softly down the steps to the kitchen wrapped in a thick dressing gown that Mrs Weasley knitted her that Christmas. She was grateful that it hid her curves that seemed to be ever growing. As she reached the bottom floor, she heard the muffled voices of her friend and Mr Weasley. As the two came into view Hermione heard Ginny let out a strangled sob. Her father crouched beside her patting her comfortingly, nodding at something she had said.

“Come on, love,” the man said gently, standing and pulling his daughter up with him, piles of blankets falling around Ginny’s feet.

“Ginny?” Hermione started, and then froze at the sight of her friend. Ginny’s eyes had the usual red rims around them from innumerable tears she had shed over the last few weeks, but this morning her usual huge jumper had been replaced by a dressing down similar to Hermione’s, though Ginny’s was open, exposing her swollen stomach half-covered by a stretched t-shirt. “Oh, Ginny, oh Merlin…” She trailed off, eyes wide as her thoughts danced around her head.

“Hermione!” Ginny stumbled, grasping her fathers arm in support with one hand and fumbling to tie up her gown with the other. “I- I’m just… Ugh!” The girl let out a desperate cry and slumped back down in the armchair as she just looked up at Hermione, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Arthur Weasley patted his only daughter on the shoulder and moved to the dining table, flicking his wand at the old black kettle, which began whistling obediently. Hermione pulled up a stool and sat by Ginny’s side, pulling her eyes away from her pregnant belly and taking in the distress on her tired looking face.

“Ginny- “ she started nervously.

“Please, Hermione, don’t tell me off. It’s too early in the morning,” Ginny interrupted, holding a hand up and leaning back. Her voice dripped with fatigue, her eyes were closed and her other hand fell limply over her bump. “I’m already anticipating a good lecturing from my mother when I tell her today.”

“I wouldn’t tell you off Ginny, you know I wouldn’t,” Hermione said quietly, and, having recovered slightly from the surprise, rested her hand lightly on Ginny’s knee. “Oh Ginny, why didn’t you tell me?”

Ginny looked through her lashes at her, and let out a deep sigh.

“Remember that day in Transfiguration? When I told you that Harry had proposed?”

Hermione nodded. She felt a sharp pang in her heart as she thought of her accidental crystal dragon. Shaking the sudden pain away, she wracked her memories for the rest of the conversation.

“I remember you saying you and Harry weren’t ready for children yet…” Hermione was wondering if she was remembering correctly.

“But I’m not naïve in these things Ginny! I know-“ She cut herself off quickly before the word ‘accidents’ slipped from her mouth. “I know these things don’t always go as planned!” She looked at her friend indignantly. “Were you pregnant then? Why wouldn’t you tell me!”

Ginny laughed softly.

“I was,” she admitted. “It turned out that it was before we even went back to school. And seeing how you reacted at the thought of having children so young, I was scared of what you would say.”

“Oh,” was all Hermione could manage for a moment. She felt grief for the girl sat before her, not for her situation, but for how terribly alone she must have felt the last few months. Before she could say anything else, Mr Weasley was bustling next to her with a tray laden with breakfast food, taking a seat in the armchair opposite Ginny. Hermione glanced up at him to gauge his reaction to his seventeen year old daughter being pregnant. He only seemed to be his usual buoyant self, maybe with an added hint of pride as he poured the girls each a cup of tea.

“Thanks, dad,” Ginny said as she shuffled forward in her chair with some difficulty. For Hermione’s benefit, she explained, “Just after I told you we were engaged, Harry went to see dad at the office. We had not long found out about the baby, you see, and he wanted to be open from the start- “

“And, of course, I told that dear boy that nothing would make Molly and I happier than to have him as our son-in-law. Can’t say I was surprised either,” Mr Weasley cut in, smiling warmly at Ginny, a piece of toast in one hand and a chipped cup of tea in the other.

“You’re both very young, but no younger than us when we were married! And between you and me, it was less than nine months after that that we had Bill!”

The girls laughed. Hermione saw the flash of relief on Ginny’s face before it turned sombre again.

“I wonder if Harry has told Ron yet. He was so happy when I told him…” She trailed off and lost herself in her thoughts as she stared out of the window again.

“Mr Weasley,” Hermione started, leaning forward towards the man who had become so like a father to her over the years. “Have you heard _anything?_ I’ve written to Luna, to see if she’s felt anything from Draco, but she barely replies. She just said that he must be very far away. _”_

He shook his head sadly, his eyes full of sorrow as he watched his daughter.

“I’ve been down to the auror office every day. No one will tell me anything. I thought one young officer was going to give in once and then its almost as if the poor lad choked on his words. Whatever they’re doing, wherever they are, its top secret. Even the aurors in the Order can’s say a thing. But rest assured, in cases like these, until they’re all safe at home, no news is good news.”

“How much longer can they be?” Hermione tried to keep the anguish from her voice. “They’ve been gone two months! And now the baby…”

“…Is only three months away,” Ginny finished softly. “Well, I hope he does tell Ron before they’re back, or I’d say both of them will be in for a big surprise!”

Arthur laughed a booming laugh then.

“Speaking of big surprises, my girl, I think it’s well passed the time to tell your mother!”

Ginny grimaced.

“I suppose I do need to give her plenty of time to knit the baby enough clothes to last till it’s tenth birthday.”

Hermione smiled. Now that the shock of a new baby had subsided, she was starting to feel excitement flicker like butterflies low in her stomach. Maybe this was what they needed, she thought. The possibility of a new life after so much loss whirred in her mind, and for the first time in weeks she felt hope flash through her.

…………………

_The cold shredded through his clothes and tore at his skin as if it were an animal with claws, the sound of the gale around his head drowning out the world around him. The air left a sensation on his face that wasn’t wet, but wasn’t quite dry. A sickening, constant in-between of light and dark fought for dominance around him as he fought to open his eyes, and he became encased on all sides by a crystal cage that seemed to be breathing the very storm that was pulling the air from his lungs. Words were ringing in his ears as darkness finally won the battle… a child…_

_A Child…_

“A CHILD?”

Draco bolted upright, wrenched from his restless sleep as he snatched his wand up from where it had dropped to the cold ground beside his cot bed, ready for an attack that didn’t come. Not at him anyway.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light from the everlasting oil lamps, he saw Harry and Ron standing either end of the small dining table in the centre of their tent. Harry looked as if he wanted to sink into the ground, and Ron looked like he wanted to bury him himself.

“She’s seventeen, you bastard!” Ron roared at his best friend, leaning forward with a finger pointing furiously at his friend.

Harry raised his hands, palms forward, in surrender, or apology. Draco wasn’t sure which. He looked over to the cot to his left and noticed Neville propped up against his pillows watching the two men, wearing an expression that was both amused and nervous at the same time. His hand was twitching towards his wand, looking ready to stun the angry young wizards if need be.

“What’s going on?” Draco said wearily to the room, though he had a fair idea already.

Ron didn’t seem to have heard him, glaring at Harry as him he had betrayed him in the worst way possible.

“Ron, I can’t say that I’m sorry, because I’m not, but you know it isn’t like we planned this!” Harry’s voice was full of earnest, pleading with his best friend.

“That doesn’t make it better, you prick! You accidentally knocked up my sister! If anything, that makes it a lot worse!” Ron was turning red now, blood rushing through his face and getting lost in his hair line. He turned away from Harry, kicking a chair away from him as he did so.

“Come on, mate,” Harry was pleading again. “You knew this would happen eventually. You knew I asked her to marry me, for Merlins sake!”

“Right, did you ask her before or after you got her pregnant?” Ron shot back. Draco could see he was still angry, but the fight was starting to dim behind his eyes.

“Before!” Harry looked surprised at the question. “But you know that wouldn’t matter to me, I decided I wanted to marry her as soon as we walked out of the castle after the battle.”

Ron slumped into one of the rickety chairs at the table, a hand over his face.

“She’s my little sister,” he mumbled through his fingers. “She’s only seventeen…”

“I know, mate.” Harry cautiously sat down at the table beside him, looking like he was still worried he would get a punch in the face. “You know how much she means to me, how much your whole family means. And it wasn’t planned, far from it.” Harry exhaled then, shaking his head with his eyes wide. “I could have died when she told me. But she said then, it was always going to happen. So why not now?”

Draco watched the exchange with some curiosity. He’d never had a confrontation that had died down so easily. Maybe it was because he’d never truly had a friendship like these two men in front of him. Well, he thought, they were more like family anyway.

“When is she due?” Ron sighed, looking wearily up at Harry as he pulled a coffee mug towards him, grimacing as he took a sip.

Harry looked relieved, pouring coffee into his own mug.

“May,” he smiled, taking a sip. He groaned and spat it back in the cup. “Merlin, that’s awful,” he muttered before looking up again. “If we got the dates right. So, if it’s the end of February now, that makes her due in three months.”

Draco, who had been busying himself with getting dressed and yanking on his heavy boots, joined them at the table. Neville soon sat beside them.

“We’ve been here two months already,” Ron said, with a worried look on his face. “We’ve had no word from the Commander or the Order, and we still don’t have a clue where we are. What if we’re not back in time?”

Harry leaned back from the table; his eyes low.

“I’ve tried not to think about it too much. I worry that we won’t be, not if we don’t figure out soon why we’re here in the first place. It’s got to be something to do with whatever it was glowing in that lake. It’s the only remotely magical thing we’ve seen since we’ve been out here. I just don’t understand the secrecy. To be honest, I’m not even sure we’re even in England.”

“More like the Arctic,” grumbled Neville.

"We don't even know if those Death Eaters have been arrested yet," interjected Ron.

"Maybe they haven't and that's why they're keeping us out of the way," Harry trailed off. 

Since Draco and Ron’s return from where they had camped beside the lake, they had each visited twice more in pairs, and then moved their camp site there permanently. On the trip Draco had taken with Harry, he was sure Gryffindors had well and truly mixed up the definitions of chivalry and life-threatening idiocy. Upon arriving at the lake several days before, the two men had spent no more than ten minutes discussing what magic might lie beneath the surface, than Harry had stripped off his thick jacket and dove in. Draco had taken a few seconds to feel completely bewildered before diving in after him, panicking that the Chosen One would get himself killed with him being the only witness. No sooner had he opened his eyes under the water and registered the eery lack of wetness or cold, along with the strange sense that he was being drawn to the centre of something, had Harry yanked him back up. They clawed their way to the whited-pebbled edge spluttering and coughing as if they had almost drowned, drenched and freezing. Draco seemed to be in a worse state than Harry, struggling to catch his breath and keep his body from shivering. They quickly dried themselves with their wands and decided to come back with Neville and Ron to investigate further.

Draco was lost in the memory of Harry telling him on their trip back that he had been trying to pull him above the water for minutes rather than the seconds that he had thought he experienced, as if some force was working against him. He was recalling the strange details of his recurring dream when Neville interrupted his thoughts.

“Draco? What do you reckon?”

“What?” He replied, snapping his head up.

“I was just saying we should make the most of the day and really try and get to the centre of the lake. Are you up for a swim?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Draco replied, nodding his head vigorously. “we need to find out what the light is, then maybe we can get out of this infernal place.”

Harry looked weary.

“Are you sure you want to go in, Draco?” He said nervously. “It was like you were being pulled under last time, but I didn’t seem to be.”

“Well,” Draco smirked sarcastically. “You can always come to my rescue again.”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time,” Harry chortled back.

Ron got up from the table, throwing a piece of burnt toast from their dwindling food supplies at Harry, who caught it in true seeker style and shoveled it into his mouth.

“Come on then boys. Let’s go for a swim,” he said, leading the way from the tent, as the crackling around the walls told them the tent was no longer sealed shut by the icy gale. The rest of them followed behind, shoulders hunched in anticipation for the day ahead.


	13. Questions Unanswered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Draco turned to look at Ron, he saw him take another two tired steps forward before his gut clenched in horror. He lunged forward had grabbed a fist full of the red headed mans jacket, having just noticed the Ron stumble at almost invisible edge of the cliff face. Pulling with all the strength he could, he pulled him back, both of them tumbling to the ground as the place where Ron had stepped crumbled away.

Days had passed. The cold air had finally broken to allow the warm sun to nourish the spring plants as they entered into march. The residents of the Burrow sat together at the rickety wooden dining table in the kitchen, apart from Mrs Weasley who was busying herself at the stove with her wand, turning some bacon perfectly crisp. Every so often the homely witch, in her burnt-orange crocheted shawl, would let out a “hmmf” or just tutted to herself. Hermione looked up at Ginny and Mr Weasley when she heard this, and saw them sharing a small smile.

When Ginny had finally taken her fathers advice and confided in her mother that she and Harry were expecting a child, the woman had let out a shrill shriek, followed by looking as if she would faint, many tears and “You’ve got your whole lives ahead of you both”’s , and then finally she had embraced the youngest of her children. As she sobbed into her daughters’ trademark Weasley hair, she had whispered soothing words into the girls’ ear, with promises of how beautiful the future was going to be.

The continued absence of Harry and Ron had been a strain on Mrs Weasley, still stricken as she was with grief of losing Ron’s brother Fred in the final battle. Keeping busy with house work and caring for the rest of her family had served to keep her mind occupied, but Hermione knew she was suffering as they all were, possibly much more.

Upon Ginny announcing her pregnancy, however, the air in the house had changed drastically in just a few days. Mrs Weasley had begun to drag out old baby items that she had lovingly used for each of her children and started setting several knitting needles to work immediately. Occasionally she would exclaim how there was just so much to prepare for before the baby arrived, and that morning was no different. Ginny had written to the rest of her brothers with her news, and all of them had written back immediately with their congratulations. They were all flocking home, and it put their mother at ease knowing almost all of her children would be under one roof, for one night at least.

“Mum! Please stop huffing!” Cried Ginny in amusement.

“Well, what did you expect! Three months is not much time to prepare for a baby, my girl! My knitting needles will be on the go until the day the little love is born!” Mrs Weasley flapped about, pouring a large pile of bacon and eggs onto Ginny’s plate. “Now, eat! I’ve barely seen you eat for weeks, time to get your strength up!”

Hermione laughed along with Ginny as she put a piece of bacon on her own plate. A hunger pain shot through her stomach but as she looked at her breakfast, she felt it quickly turn to nausea. She leaned back and groaned.

“What’s up?” asked Ginny through a mouthful of toast.

“I just feel off this morning,” she replied wearily, opening her eyes and reaching for the steaming tea pot that was wearing a tea-cosy that matched Mrs Weasleys shawl. “No appetite.”

“Here, have a crumpet,” Mrs Weasley said kindly, holding the tray up to Hermione.

“No, I really shouldn’t,” Hermione said, thinking of her ever-tightening jeans. However, as she looked over and saw the melted butter spread deliciously on the golden baked dough, she swiftly gave in. She took a bite and groaned in satisfaction, but as soon as she swallowed her eyes widened, almost overcome with sickness. She bolted out of her chair and up the stairs to the tiny bathroom on the first floor, only just making it in time to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She flushed the toilet and closed the lid, reaching up for the flannel that was sitting on the side of the sink. As she tried to dab the clamminess away, she heard a faint knock at the door.

“Hermione?” Came Ginny’s voice, full of concern for her friend as she let herself in and perched on the edge of the bath, a hand over her growing belly. “Are you okay?”

Hermione leaned against the wall, still sat on the cold tiled floor.

“I think so,” she moaned. “I’ve been feeling so unwell lately, hungry then nauseous, only feeling better when I throw up, so tired but can’t sleep! And no matter what I do, I still seem to be putting on weight!”

There were tears in her eyes now, her hair wild around her head. It took a moment to notice the nervous look on Ginny’s face.

“What?” she said sharply. “Are you going to tell me there’s some bizarre magical disease that I don’t know about?”

“I don’t know about magical, exactly,” Ginny replied awkwardly. “I guess it does seem pretty magical but yeah…”

“Merlin, Ginny, what is it?” Hermione said impatiently, her thoughts running circles around her head.

Ginny shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bath and eyed her friend.

“Hermione,” she said cautiously. “Are _you_ pregnant?”

Hermione had the urge to throw up again, but before she could reply with exactly how ridiculous that was, there was a commotion in the kitchen below them. The girls looked at each other quickly before Hermione hauled herself up off the floor and helped Ginny to stand. They raced down the stairs and saw Bill and Fleur standing in the kitchen looking grim while Mr Weasley comforted a sobbing Mrs Weasley.

“Not again, not again,” she cried into her husbands’ jumper.

Arthur looked over his wife’s head as he patted her back, regarding his oldest son with a serious expression.

“How soon do we have to leave? We need to move the girls as soon as possible I imagine?” he asked.

Bill nodded, looking every bit a fierce warrior with his hard eyes and marred and disfigured face. Hermione interrupted before he could answer.

“What’s going on?” she said, standing beside Fleur. “Girls? You mean Ginny and I? Move us where?”

“Ze ministry ‘as informed us at ze Order zat ze Death Eaters zat took your Malfoy boy ‘av united witz ozzers zat fled ze battle,” Fleur told her in her thick French accent. In protection mode for her family, Hermione could almost see the other side of the veela coming out of her.

“What does that mean?” puffed Ginny, having finally caught up to Hermione. “Why would that mean we have to leave the Burrow?”

“Because,” said Bill, looking over his little sister almost fearfully, “Rodolphus Lestrange announced their plans to the ministry in a letter. They’re looking for Harry and Ron, and the Malfoy’s. It’s now of upmost importance that the secret of Harry Potter expecting a child remains exactly that, a secret. Merlin knows what those mutts would do with that information.”

Ginny nodded at her brother, though words escaped her as she clung to her unborn child beneath her skin.

“So where will we go?” Mrs Weasley asked in anguish.

“Grimmauld Place,” Hermione and Ginny said together, and their conversation only minutes before seemed to have been forgotten entirely.

The Weasleys nodded and hurried to the rooms above to gather their belongings. It flashed through Hermione’s mind how second nature it had become, going into hiding. Not ten minutes had passed before they had all gathered once more in the kitchen, crowded around the soot-covered and rickety fireplace ready to depart. Hermione was about to take the first step in before jumping around to face the Weasleys.

“Luna!” she exclaimed, slapping a hand to her forehead. “We have to warn her, convince her to come with us.”

Bill nodded, looking ashamed that he hadn’t considered her.

“You’re right,” he said. “Her house isn’t far from here. Fleur, take mother and the girls to Grimmauld Place, dad and I will go to her.”

“I’ll come with you, Bill!” Hermione objected, while Fleur attempted to usher her towards the grate.

“Oh, Hermione, I’d rather we stayed together,” Ginny said, a look full of hidden meaning on her face. “And we would have to apparate there, which I can’t do while _pregnant_ , remember? So, you’ll have to just floo with me.”

Hermione went pale as she remembered Ginny’s earlier unanswered question.

“Right, okay,” she stammered. “I’ll go first then?”

Finally, she stepped into the fireplace, grabbing a fistful of floo powder as she went. She was unable to keep the stricken expression from her face as she turned to face the other, but she felt it fit both predicaments she now found herself in regardless.

……………………

“It’s meant to be March now, isn’t it?” asked Neville, teeth chattering against the wind.

The four men had tried and failed to swim far enough in the enchanted lake to reach the glowing centre. Draco was glad that his attempts hadn’t had the same affect as the first one, but still struggled to shake the chill of the icy water from his bones. After so many unsuccessful attempts, they started searching for another way to reach it, and soon found that they could no longer venture further than a few hundred meters from the waters’ edge. Over the last few days, however, they had noticed the landscape around the lake had begun to change, as if they were in a snow-globe and the flakes had piled up too much around the edges. They soon realised that almost overnight, cliff faces had grown around the waters edge. With this new terrain to explore, and being the only direction that they could go, they had begun their ascent. A mere few hours after sunrise, the day was appearing to lose light, and they were now searching desperately for a place to secure their tent.

“I think you were right about not being in England,” Ron shouted at Harry over the howling wind.

Harry yelled a reply back but it was drowned out as the gale picked up around them. Draco shook his head at him before jogging to catch up and stop him walking.

“We need to stop!” He yelled at him, pointing to the darkness encroaching on them like a forbidding enemy.

He could see Harry nodding through the icy fractals swirling between them. Withing minutes they had erected their tent and made it inside just in time before the frost they were now so familiar with raged around them.

Draco shrugged off his heavy coat and tossed it aside in frustration.

“We didn’t even have five hours of sunlight,” he growled at the room.

“I’m starting to think this is all just a pretence,” Harry said, tugging off a boot and squeezing his tired foot. “What if there is no mission? Nothing to find?”

“You’re right,” Neville said, turning towards him and running his hands over his face. “I think all of us, even you, Draco, proved we were more than capable of keeping a secret over the last couple of years. Why wouldn’t they just tell us what they wanted from us, instead of hiding us away like children?”

Draco looked at him as his voice raised to a shout and felt a sudden deep sadness. He was confused for a moment before he felt a familiar, painless burn on his wrist. Luna. He felt a twinge of guilt that he had barely spared the girl a thought since the four of them had been abandoned in this strange frozen wilderness. He shut his eyes for a moment and concentrated, honing in on her feelings. Grief and loss filled him, and he knew there was something wrong with her. In the same moment, Draco realised that if he was suddenly feeling their connection so strongly, she must be close by.

He tuned back in to the present and realised that Neville and Ron were debating the reasoning behind their adventure.

“After all we’ve been through, why would they do that to us?” Ron was saying indignantly, digging around in the kitchen utensils for the kettle.

“I keep thinking about what the Commander said,” said Harry, “about the ministry thinking we were ready but he thinks different? He’s so like Mad-Eye… Don’t look at me like that, Ron!”

Ron turned his back, shaking his head as Harry continued.

“I’m just saying, he _is_ like Mad-Eye, but the Mad-Eye who taught us about unforgivable curses, not the auror…”

Draco saw Neville shift uncomfortably in his seat; his hands clasped together on his lap.

“Like Barty Crouch Jnr, you mean,” Ron said quietly, leaning against the kitchenette.

Draco felt his heart speed up.

“Wait, you mean Barty Crouch, the Death Eater?” he said, a shaky tone in his voice as he registered all eyes were on him.

“Did you ever know him?” Harry asked carefully.

“No,” replied Draco. “The Dark Lord came to the Manor the year after Crouch helped resurrect him, and they would talk of him so often, especially Bellatrix.” He glanced up at Neville then, and saw the pain on his face. “They were almost as enthralled by him as they were by the Dark Lord.”

“But he’s dead, isn’t he?” said Neville, his brows knitting together. “After the Triwizard Tournament, Fudge brought a dementor and it killed him.” He looked over at Ron. “Didn’t it?”

“Well, no,” Harry said, sounding unsure. “I remember something Remus said, that you can exist without your soul, and your body just keeps going like an empty shell. But that there is no recovery from it.”

“Well, surely then you’d die soon after, you’d starve or die of thirst or something.”

Draco stood and faced away from the three Gryffindors, with his shoulders hunched over and his hands braced on the edge of the sink.

“He’s not dead,” He whispered hoarsely. The chatter in the tent subsided and the silence was deafening.

“Come again?” said Harry.

Draco turned to face them, clenching and unclenching his suddenly sweaty hands at the sight of the shock on their faces.

“He’s not dead,” he repeated weakly. “I thought you would surely know; I’ve not even thought of it since my trial!”

“I don’t understand, Malfoy,” said Harry slowly, his emerald eyes locking onto Draco’s steel ones. “You need to explain, now.”

“He was one of the Death Eaters I named at my trial; how would you not know?” Draco looked from one face to another and felt uncertainty rise within him. After all this time, would this be when they would turn on him?

Ron slapped his hand down on the table.

“The Ministry Legillimens,” he said, as if the answer was obvious. At the blank stares he received, he explained, “she was meant to disclose every Death Eater she uncovered in your mind, wasn’t she?”

“Yes?” said Draco, trying to catch on.

“So, we didn’t hear that part of the trial. We wouldn’t have known that you named him,” finished Ron.

“But I read through the documents from those trials, Ron,” Harry reminded him. “Seeing that name in there isn’t something I would have forgotten.”

“Maybe it wasn’t in there,” offered Neville. “I’m not saying you hid it,” he added quickly as Draco was about to defend himself. “You couldn’t have, even if you tried. I’m saying that maybe she didn’t disclose it.”

“But why wouldn’t she?” Harry looked troubled. “Crouch being alive would be vital information, he’s personally responsible for bringing Voldemort back, and everything that came after it.”

“You-Know-Who’s people have always been everywhere,” Neville said solemnly. “Barty Crouch Jr was in with my family before he and Bellatrix Lestrange tortured my parents.”

“And even then,” said Harry, “they only found out about that because they gave Igor Karkaroff to name names in return for his freedom. Dumbledore told me,” he added in answer to their questioning glances. “But Draco, how do you know he’s alive?”

“I remember hearing them talk about it, right before we were summoned from the Manor to the castle for the Battle. Bellatrix was telling my mother that the Dark Lord finally had the power to bring him back, restore his mind and soul to his body. I don’t know where they kept his body or how they kept him alive. I don’t know how- “

“The Elder Wand,” Harry cut in, pinching his fingers on the bridge of his nose. “Of course. He stole it right before the battle.”

“So, let me get this straight,” said Ron, pacing now. “You think that You-Know-Who resurrected Crouch, and now Crouch is, once again, posing as Mad-Eye?”

“No,” Harry sighed. “No, I’m sure Mad-Eye truly did die that night. Right?” he directed at Draco, who nodded, eyes on the ground.

“But maybe he _is_ the Commander. He’s a powerful enough wizard to pull it off. Merlin, he kept Alastor Moody in a trunk for nearly a whole year. Maybe he’s done the same thing.”

“But why?” asked Draco. “What’s the point in this charade? If he wanted revenge for taking down the Dark Lord then why not just kill us?”

“He spent a whole year being my main support in the Tournament,” said Harry, “even though is was the biggest enemy to his master. He needed me to win but I truly believed in him. He became a mentor and tutor to Neville even though he had tortured his parents all those years ago, because Neville was part of the twisted puzzle that he was creating to get me to the graveyard. Whatever this is, he needs us to do something, play a part in his game.”

Draco suppressed a shudder.

“Do you think he’s- “

Ron was cut off as a load crumbing sounded all around them and the ice fell away form their nightly prison. Confused, Harry stalked to the entrance of the tent.

“We’ve only been in here an hour,” He muttered as he drew the curtain open.

All four men drew their hands before their eyes as the bright morning light tried to blind them.

“What is going on?” Ron followed Harry from the tent and yelled in surprise, Neville close behind him.

Draco stood for a moment, his mind fatigued from the pile of unanswered questions that seemed to just keep growing. Sighing, he followed behind Neville.

Blinking in the sharp sun, it took him a moment to register the lack of snow as he subconsciously went to pull his jacket tighter around him, only to realise that he wasn’t wearing it. The feeling of not being cold almost shocked him, and he looked at the elated looks on the others faces as they looked around.

“Wait,” he said, uncertainty rising in him. He looked around and tried to find his bearings. “This doesn’t even look like the same place we stopped. There’s no mountains, like we’re at the top.”

“Maybe we got to the top and didn’t realise with all the snow,” shrugged Ron. “And the cliff did keep changing.”

“There aren’t even any trees,” Draco murmured, looking at the flat, rocky ground.

“Look, you can see the light in the lake!” yelled Ron. “We’re right above it!”

As Draco turned to look at Ron, he saw him take another two tired steps forward before his gut clenched in horror. He lunged forward had grabbed a fist full of the red headed mans jacket, having just noticed the Ron stumble at almost invisible edge of the cliff face. Pulling with all the strength he could, he pulled him back, both of them tumbling to the ground as the place where Ron had stepped crumbled away.

“Ron!” yelled Harry, his face pale. “You alright mate? Draco?”

Draco nodded and pulled himself up onto his knees, sitting on his heels. He took a deep breath before looking at Ron, still sprawled on the ground, eyes wide as he stared up at the sky. He started laughing an exasperated laugh, Draco soon joining him.

“That’s all we need, Ron, you falling from a cliff,” Harry said half-jokingly as he put an arm out to help Draco stand.

Draco was about to take it when their laughter was interrupted by a deep groan that seemed to come from the earth below them. Draco barely locked eyes on Harry before he felt the ground move below him. As if instinctively, he shoved Harry back as hard as he could before he started falling.

His arms reached desperately for anything as he fell, finding only air, and he vaguely saw Harry, Ron and Neville screaming spells at him that seemed to hit an invisible barrier one by one, unable to stop his body. He felt something fly up from his pocket and just in time he managed to close his long pale fingers around the tiny crystal Dragon. Hermione, smiling and twirling in front of him, danced in his mind as his eyes closed, before he plunged into the glowing centre of the lake.


	14. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rays danced on the glimmering crystal faceted casket that encased Luna, who was laying lifeless on the gold trimmed quilt. With the glinting embellishments that seemed to grow up the wall behind the bedhead in a deep forest green, and Luna’s hair splayed out around her head on the pillow, Hermione was struck at how much the scene reminded her of a fairy-tale; Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, she thought.

Hermione, please sit down!”

The sun was setting on the agonisingly long day. Upon their arrival in the dank kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, the portrait of Walburga Black had begun shrieking and screaming insults such as ‘blood traitors’ and ‘mudbloods’ through the halls of the house until Mrs Weasley, pale in the face, sent a purple-blasted hex at hit, forcing the mouldy curtains around the frame to snap shut.

The mother, matriarch and homemaker of the Weasley clan, had then sat in a tattered mahogany dining chair beside the mantle of the fire place, waiting for her husband and her eldest son to return safely to her. Hours had passed when she had finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, and Ginny gently lay a blanket over her.

Hermione barely heard Ginny hissing at her as she paced around the kitchen waiting for Bill and Arthur Weasley to return with Luna.

“’Ermione?”

Hermione froze at the brass-coloured sink, squeezing her eyes shut as she realised that she had been rapping her wand loudly on the bench top when Fleur had spoken up. She slowly turned to face to two Weasley women that were still awake. Ginny was leant against the long dining table that matched the dining chair, her hand resting protectively over her bump. Though the youngest and most vulnerable of the group, she looked fierce. Her expression matched that of Fleur’s, who sat bolt upright in her seat and ready for any threat.

“It’s been hours,” Hermione whispered desperately, trying not to wake Mrs Weasley. “It’ll be dark out by now. Where could they be?”

“We will ‘ear from zem soon enough,” Fleur said surely, her eyes fixed on the fire place, not offering any more reassurance.

“Come, sit down.” Ginny took Hermione gently by the hand and led the reluctant witch to a seat opposite Fleur. She pushed a mug of hot chocolate towards them both. “Here.”

“I don’t think I could swallow anything right now,” Hermione muttered, rubbing her eyes as if trying to rub away the fatigue that was creeping up on her.

“You ‘ave not eaten all day,” noted Fleur, smiling kindly at her. “You need to keep your strength up. You are pregnant, yes?”

Hermione shook her head in horror.

“No, I’m not! It’s Ginny who’s pregnant! Obviously,” she added, before glancing apologetically in Ginny’s direction.

“Oh don’t worry, there’s no hiding this belly anymore!” Ginny laughed softly, looking over her shoulder as Mrs Weasley shifted in her sleep behind her. “But, Hermione, what we talked about earlier…”

“Well, we didn’t really get to have much of a conversation, did we?” Hermione said glumly, hanging her head over the table. When she looked up and saw them both staring at her, she sighed. “How do I even find out? Muggles have these tests they can buy from a shop; how do witches find out? Ginny?”

“There’s a spell that you cast over your tummy,” Ginny explained, happy for the momentary distraction. “If it doesn’t glow at all, it means you’re not, you know, pregnant. Mine was like a dark amber colour dancing inside an emerald cloud,” she giggled.

“Sounds very romantic,” Hermione groaned.

“’eet shows as ze colour of your aura, and ze fazzers, mixed together,” said Fleur. “My mozzer told me zat my sister and I both were gold and green.”

“Okay,” Hermione said shakily. “So what do we do? Do I lie down? Can you do the spell on me, Ginny?”

“Yes, of course!” Ginny squealed. “Come, come! Into the lounge.”

Hermione followed Ginny and her bouncing red ponytail into the sitting room and let herself be ushered to the plush couch, Fleur waiting in the doorway where she still had a clear view of the fire place. Lying down on her back, she felt like her heart was going to beat its way right out of her chest.

Ginny leaned over the back of the couch over Hermione, moving her wand wordlessly from her sternum to her groin and back, over and over. Feeling anxiety taking hold of her, she shut her eyes and tried to relax her body.

“ _Gravidus fordus,”_ whispered Ginny.

Hermione felt the words wash over her like she had been engulfed in loving embrace. She felt Draco’s arms wrap around her body, as if his love were encapsulating her. The chain around her neck started to pulse as her eyes flew open, and the sight above her took her breath away. Gold and green, crystalised silver and a deep impregnable umber moved in and out of themselves, bending and unbending and falling together again until all of the colours crushed together as if forming a diamond, and suddenly exploded throughout the room like a million stars. Finally, the light show ended, leaving the occupants of the room in an awestruck silence.

“That was so much better than mine!” exclaimed Ginny.

Hermione’s head snapped up to look at her friend, her amazement at what she had just witnessed replaced by an unbridled horror.

“Oh, Merlin, no,” she managed, her voice cracking painfully.

“Hermione, it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay,” Ginny said carefully, coming around to meet Hermione as she sat up straight.

“No, nope.” Hermione shook her head, swallowing the bile that was rising up in her throat as she looked between the two women.

“Congratulations,” Laughed Fleur. “I’m sure- “

Whatever Fleur was sure of, Hermione didn’t hear, for at that moment the light from the kitchen turned a brilliant green as the fire roared to life as Bill strode out of it, quickly followed by Arthur. Mrs Weasley let out a shrill scream at being woken up so aggressively, but quickly recovered as she threw herself into her husbands’ eager arms.

“Bill, my love,” Fleur sighed as she embraced him.

“Bill?” said Ginny fearfully as she and Hermione entered the kitchen. Hermione registered fresh bruising on both of the men’s faces and their torn clothes. “Why were you gone so long? Where’s Luna?”

Bill sighed and removed his arms from Fleur’s shoulders. Sharing a glance with his father, he addressed the room.

“We were intercepted on the way to Luna’s cottage by an owl from the Order,” he began. “They found the boys’- “

“What!?” Ginny shrieked, grasping a chair in support. “They’re back? Where are they? Are they hurt- “

Bill held a hand up to silence her.

“They’re fine, love. They’re banged up from a duel, but they’re okay. They’re at the ministry.”

Hermione felt relief wash over her, and sat down carefully.

“And Luna? Is she at the ministry too? With Neville, I mean.”

“Well,” Bill cleared his throat, the remorse on his face turning Hermione’s blood cold. “No. After we saw the boys, dad and I headed straight to the cottage. Luna, she…”

He broke off, running a tired hand over his marred face, unable to continue. Arthur stepped forward and put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“When we got there,” Arthur continued, “we found Luna in her bedroom- “

“Death Eaters?” Hermione balked, thinking back to what she had learned from Draco, of Macnair and Luna’s imprisonment at the manor.

“No, there wasn’t any evidence that Lestrange or his followers had been there,” Bill said quickly. “Luna is alive, as far as we can tell, but she isn’t conscious. It’s like she’s been encased in some protective shield. We can’t floo her, and we can’t apparate anyone into this house. We have put up protections around the cottage that will hold until we can find out how to move her.”

Hermione sat in silence, guilt creeping in like poison as she thought of all the letters she had written to Luna and the short, sharp answers she had received,

“I should have visited her,” she said quietly, shaking her head with shame. “I knew something was wrong, her bond with Draco, him and Neville both gone! This probably happened because of that! Maybe if we bring them both to her, whatever spell she’s under will be broken!”

“Hemione,” Said Mr Weasley, his face solemn and fatherly as he sat next to her and she felt the cold dread returning once again, her arms wrapping instinctively around her stomach. “They didn’t know it, but the boys… They were being kept in a prophecy chamber in the department of mysteries. They escaped, but Draco wasn’t with them…”

Hermione felt pressure in her skull as her vision swam in and out. She couldn’t tell if the words she was hearing were from Mr Weasley beside her or vague memories of old conversations.

_Not again… Missing… fell… gone…_

Hermione’s head snapped up as she met Arthur’s hazel eyes.

“Well,” she said dryly. “We better get to the ministry. Ginny needs to see Harry and her brother, and I’m sure Neville will want to be with Luna.”

She shrugged off a hand from her shoulder as she walked silently to the grate, not turning to face them as she stepped inside this time, for she could not bare for them to see the tears that were now flowing freely. The agonising numbness was overwhelming her. She stepped out of the deep green tiled fireplace at the ministry and felt her gut clench as it reminded her of her missing Slytherin.

Hemione closed her eyes and let out a sob, turning to step back into the grate. Her plan was foiled however when her body collided with another.

Steel grey eyes pierced her own and she felt she might laugh with relief, before realising the eyes were the same height as her own, and belonged to a woman. The woman placed her hands on both of Hermione’s arms to steady her before quickly letting go.

“I thought I’d run into you here, Miss Granger,” said the haunting figure of Narcissa Malfoy, pain etched into the lines of her once beautiful face.

Before she could excuse herself, Hemione heard someone calling her name behind her. Turning, she saw Ron hurtling towards her, barely having enough time to prepare herself before he swooped her into his arms and spun her around, burying his face in her hair. Over his shoulder, Hermione saw Narcissa turning away wearing an expression of distaste.

Pushing away slightly but not willing to let him go, Hermione looked up at Ron’s blackened face. A long cut that was magically healing before her eyes stretched from his eyebrow all the way to his chin.

“What happened to you all?” She gasped, shocked at the severity of his injuries. “Your father and Bill looked like they’d been in a fight too. Where are the others? Are they okay?”

“We’re all okay,” Ron assured her, kissing her familiarly on the forehead before drawing back and giving her a guarded look. “Hermione, has anyone told you- “

“I know Draco isn’t with you,” Hermione said quietly, lowering her eyes from Ron’s in an attempt to hide her pain. She glanced over to where Narcissa was waiting, and saw that the woman’s face was set like hard stone, showing no emotion. “Is there any chance that he might be…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word ‘alive’, for then she would have to acknowledge that the alternative was far more likely, if the state that Ron was in was anything to go by.

“He, ah, he fell… Before the fight. He fell really far…” Ron halted when Hermione shook her head violently and turned away from him. He caught her swiftly with one strong arm before she could sink to her knees where she stood and half carried her to a bench off to the side of the atrium. Setting her down gently, he knelt in front of her and wiped away the single tear that rolled down her face.

“What happened?” she asked again in a whisper.

Before he could answer, he was interrupted by the fireplace erupting again, this time delivering Ginny, closely followed by her parents and Bill and Fleur.

“Ron!” she gasped and she ran towards him as fast as she was able in her pregnant state.

With an apologetic look at Hermione, Ron stood and faced his younger sister, pausing for only a moment as he took in her bulging stomach before pulling her into a tight one-armed hug, Mrs Weasley folded firmly into the other one. He kissed them both on the tops of their bright red heads before pulling away, raising his eye brows at Ginny as he put one hand on her belly.

“You and Harry are going to be the death of me, Gin’” he laughed.

“Where is Harry, Ron?” Ginny asked desperately.

“He’ll be down in a sec- “

Ginny was looking around him and finally caught sight of the tall black haired young man accompanied by Neville, both of whom were covered in dirt, with injuries that matched her brothers. Hermione whimpered in relief at the sight of them both but couldn’t quite bring herself to move from her seat. She watched as Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter closed the space between them as if their lives depended on it, moulding together so fiercely it looked as it they would never let each other go again.

Harry drew away from his fiancé, though her kept her fasted securely by his side, a hand holding her belly protectively.

“I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see all,” he said, eyes shining with emotion. He looked over them all as if doing a head count, and finally looked from Hermione to Neville. “Where’s Luna?

“I thought you were bringing her back with you,” Neville asked Bill and Arthur, stepping forward. “Didn’t she come?”

“Er, no,” Said Bill uncomfortably. He recounted what he had told Hermione and Ginny only half an hour before at Grimmauld Place. “We need to work out a way to move her in there, but we can’t get passed the protective enchantments.”

“Move her?” Neville’s voice was raised slightly, confusion and fear plain on his face. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?”

“I can do that,” said Narcissa haughtily, as if she knew exactly what was wrong, before anyone could respond. “I can see quite plainly that my son is not with you, nor that any of you with your ridiculous hero complexes are in a rush to go and find him. So, evidently, there is nothing to be done for him now. We must see that Miss Lovegood is moved safely, and be quick about it. I can’t apparate her into Walburga’s house, but I can bring her into mine. Meet me at my front door in five minutes, and once she is secure, I will ask that you inform me of the circumstances of Draco’s death.”

The group watched the witch’s platinum blonde head disappear in green flames, Neville close on her heels, before looking uneasily back at Hermione in unison. Ron took her hand and Harry detangled himself from Ginny to take the other. Ginny nodded to him and led the rest of the group in flooing back to Grimmauld Place.

Her two closest friends in the world, two parts of her soul, guided her to the grate and stepped into it together with her, both with their arms around her as if tying to pull her pain into themselves.

……………………………

Hermione stood at Neville’s side in the elegantly designed bedroom at 13 Grimmauld Place. Heavy woven curtains were drawn against the bright dawn, though some streaks of light managed to break through. Their rays danced on the glimmering crystal faceted casket that encased Luna, who was laying lifeless on the gold trimmed quilt. With the glinting embellishments that seemed to grow up the wall behind the bedhead in a deep forest green, and Luna’s hair splayed out around her head on the pillow, Hermione was struck at how much the scene reminded her of a fairy-tale; Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, she thought. She watched Neville place his hand for the twentieth time on the impregnable glass-like substance and sighed, squeezing his shoulder before taking a seat on the futon at the end of the bed.

It had been a long night of questions and tears before the Weasleys and Harry had retired to the less-grand Black residence across the street, and neither Neville or Hermione had gotten any sleep.

Narcissa had painfully explained, though it was only a theory about Luna’s strange magic, that she believed that the young witch must have felt her son’s death so fiercely that it had a near-devastating impact on her being, and her own magic had encapsulated her in order to protect her and restore her strength. No one argued with her, as none of them did understand or had even heard of the unique magical bond between the two.

Hermione had sat in a cold silence, arms wrapped tightly around her mid-section. She couldn’t bare to think too long about the fact that Draco would not return to her, and certainly couldn’t fathom the loss of Luna too. Neville hadn’t said a word since their return either, just staring at the love of his life through the crystal facets as if willing her to open her own eyes.

She felt her eyes drifting closed when she heard the door creak open. Groaning, she looked up at Neville, who hadn’t so much as turned around as Ron sidled into the room, Harry close behind him.

Ron put one had on Neville’s shoulder as he regarded Luna’s frozen form with a shaky sighed, and Neville looked up in surprise as if he hadn’t heard him approach at all.

“You two look like you got about as much sleep as us,” Harry said sadly.

“Well, you and Ginny probably had a lot to catch up on,” Hermione smiled weakly as Ron groaned.

Harry let out a short laugh, blush creeping up his neck as he sat opposite Hermione, who pulled Ron down beside her with his hand held fast in hers.

“Tell me,” she started, choking on her words. “Tell me what happened from the start. Why were you in the Department of Mysteries for two months?”

“We didn’t know we were,” Ron said angrily. “It was all a sick twisted game.”

“We were taken with a large force of aurors to the middle of nowhere,” explained Harry. “There was nothing but forest and snow and blizzards as far as we could go. We couldn’t apparate, we weren’t told anything. And then, after a week, the commander told us it was practically a training exercise. He sounded just like Mad-Eye, but when Crouch was impersonating him. Carrying on about constant vigilance. Well, then he walked out of our tent, and the whole group of them just disappeared.”

“We thought we were meant to be searching for something,” growled Neville, his eyes still on Luna. “We were starving, freezing, had no idea what we were looking for.”

“Then Malfoy and me, we found this lake.” Ron looked away from Hermione as he spoke, like the words were painful for him. “We saw this glowing light in the middle of it, and tried to swim to it. Harry had to drag Malfoy out, like it was pulling him in to the centre.”

“Is that when- “

“No,” Harry cut Hermione off. “The landscape began to change. Cliffs were forming around us, and with no other options, we decided to climb.”

Hermione could see it in her minds eye, the four men hiking against the icy storm.

“And Draco?” she asked carefully.

“We couldn’t climb any more one night,” Harry continued. “You see, each night at dusk, this chill would blow over the whole place and freeze everything it touched. We were lucky we never got caught out in it. When we left the tent the next morning, we were at the top of the cliff, no snow if sight. It wasn’t even cold anymore!”

“We were just looking around,” said Ron. “I looked over the edge and saw that the middle of the lake was directly below us, somehow. Draco saw that the ground was unstable and pulled me back and- “

He turned away from Hermione and wiped his face on his sleeve. Hermione looked from his crestfallen face to Harry’s.

“What?” she urged.

“The ground, it just gave way underneath him,” said Harry, the shock of the memory clear in his eyes. “He must have fallen sixty feet. We threw every spell at him that we could.”

“We all did,” interjected Neville from behind her. “They just kept hitting some invisible barrier, like the magic of the lake was all around him. I thought I saw- “ He paused, thinking hard, “he reached for something. Grabbed it in his hands like he thought it would stop him falling.”

“What was it?” whispered Hermione.

“It was glowing,” said Ron, is brow furrowed. “Like crystal. It’s like it grew bigger before he hit the water.”

All of them seemed to share the same thought as they turned to stare at Luna’s glistening tomb.

“It looked just like this,” breathed Neville.

……………………………………

_Falling, falling, falling, his descent never-ending until it did, inevitably, end._

_The cold shredded through his clothes and tore at his skin as if it were an animal with claws, the sound of the gale around his head drowning out the world around him. The air left a sensation on his face that wasn’t wet, but wasn’t quite dry. A sickening, constant in-between of light and dark fought for dominance around him as he fought to open his eyes, and he became encased on all sides by a crystal cage that seemed to be breathing the very storm that was pulling the air from his lungs. Words were ringing in his ears as darkness finally won the battle… I’m here… Draco, I’ll be with you…Draco… A child… A child is waiting for you..._


	15. Curses and Prophecies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione pressed her hands against the crystal that had formed around Luna, and felt a sharp energy pulse through her. Though she didn’t get the vision this time, she recognised it as the same shock that she felt when she and Draco had held the Dragon at the same time. Harry and Ron stood behind her.  
> “So, what do we do?” she whispered. “How do we get them out?”

What happened… after?”

……………………………………

The second Draco hit the water, Harry felt the earth shatter around him. The ground, the sky, and even the lake below them, exploded into a billion pieces of light, disappearing bit by bit until finally they found themselves in darkness.

“Lumos,” Ron murmured, raising his wand shakingly, and all three men let out a collective startled gasp.

They were in a vast stone chamber, the walls carved out by some antient flood long ago. Before them, hung up by its rocky archway, was the veil, glowing as if it were an entity all its own. As all of them knew now, it truly was.

“We’re in the Department of Mysteries,” Harry said hurriedly, dreaded anticipation filling him as he backed away. “We have to find the way out. Now.”

He yelped, stunned, as his heel hit something and felt himself falling backwards.

Neville and Ron each grabbed fistfuls of his sweater and pulled him up before he could hit the ground. Not the ground, Harry realised looking down, but the edge of a deep, ominous well. He placed his hands gingerly on the cool brimstone and peered inside. There was nothing to see but blackness, leaving him with a feeling of devastating finality.

“I think… I think we’ve been here the entire time,” he said thickly, knowing he was right. “I think the well- “

“The well is the lake,” Ron finished with a sense of urgency. “Do you think we can get him out then? Malfoy? Maybe there’s still time.”

Ron raced to Harry’s side and yelled Draco’s name, only for it to endlessly echo down into the unfathomable depths.

“No, I think he’s gone, Ron,” Harry said, his voice wracked with regret. He thought of Sirius, and the last time they were in this chamber. “The well wasn’t here before, but it must have something to do with the veil. And the veil is like a passageway to the beyond.”

“And the well is a passageway too,” said Neville. It wasn’t a question. The three of them hung their heads, grief and guilt overwhelming them, until a voice made them spin around.

“Correct!”

Out of the shadows came a tall imposing figure, no longer limping, the lines in his face less pronounced.

“Commander?” Ron asked in confusion, letting his wand droop slightly before Harry nudged it back up again. “You look… younger?”

“Ah yes, the Commander,” said the stranger as he strolled around them, his eyes wandering lazily around the room. His voice completely lacked the gruffness of the man they had met previously. Harry noticed his eye was still a brilliant electric blue. “I did so hate to have to make myself seem old and worn like that old coot. “The name, my boys, is Atticus.”

“Why are we here, Atticus?” Harry asked in a carefully, stepping in front of Neville slightly, who looked as if he were ready to pounce on the man waltzing around them. He jerked his head towards the well. “What is that?”

“Oh, the well!” Atticus clapped his hands together gleefully, and it puzzled Harry at how easily they had been fooled into thinking they were being trained by a rough, old, war torn soldier. “ _That,_ dear boy, is the answer to the Dark Lord’s return.”

“What,” Harry breathed, the air knocked out of him. A Death Eater. Of course. “No spell of magic can reawaken the dead!” He was yelling now, panic overtaking him.

“No spell, no earthly magic, can do that, no,” Atticus nodded, as if forlorn at his own magical limitations. “But you see, the Dark Lord foresaw his ultimate demise at your hands when he learned of the theft of Helga’s cup. He knew that it was not only possible, but likely. And so, he created the well. He knew nothing already on this earth could bring a soul back from beyond the veil, so he forged something using magic not from this realm.”

“How?” Harry said, brows furrowed before realisation hit him. “The Elder Wand.”

“Yes.” Atticus replied simply. “A weapon infused with magic from Death himself.”

“If you had what you needed to bring him back, why all these games? Where do we come into it?” Neville was shaking angrily.

“The well works as a kind of sacrificial vessel, you see.” Atticus said calmly as if there weren’t three wands pointed angrily in his face. “One soul goes in; one comes out of the veil.”

“Okay,” said Harry, trying to keep up. “But why are _we_ here? Couldn’t you just push anyone in and not wait more than two months for one of us to fall in?”

“Don’t you think I would have thought of that?” Atticus snapped, seeming irritated for the first time. “It took several sacrifices before I realised one could not just force them in. it had to be willingly, or in that Death Eater traitors case, accidentally. I had hoped it would be you to make the sacrifice, of course Potter. That would have been far more fitting for you to once again be responsible for the resurrection of the Dark Lord. But alas, the well seemed intent on claiming the Malfoy boy.”

“Several sacrifices?” Neville blanched.

“He wasn’t responsible the first time,” Ron growled at Atticus.

“Hearsay,” shrugged Atticus. “Regardless, there is no brining the boy back now. He is adrift, you might say. But soon the veil will claim him and the Dark Lord will return!”

The strangers voice turned manic as figures seemed to manifest around him. More than a dozen Death Eaters materialised, raising their wands in unison. Atticus put his hand on the shoulder of the one in the forefront familiarly, and the mask dissolved to reveal the gaunt face of Rodolphus Lestrange.

“My dear man, should we leave them to it?” Atticus said to him, not taking his eyes off the shocked young wizards.

Rodolphus nodded and they disappeared in a plume of black smoke.

Neville shot a hex into the space where they had vanished, only for it to hit the Death Eater who had been standing behind them. Everyone paused for half a second to look at the fallen man before the room exploded in cracks of bright light in every colour, Harry, Ron and Neville each fending off several Death Eaters at once. The fight seemed endless, and Harry could feel his strength waning. He didn’t dare to look beside him to check on his mates but was reassured at the deflective spells still coming from either side.

Harry felt he could have wept and he heard a strangled cough come from Ron as columns of white smoke billowed into the chamber and twenty aurors and Order members joined the fray. Bill and Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva McGonagall appeared by their side, giving them a momentary respite as they battled their assailants.

“Alright boys?” Mr Weasley yelled behind him, stunning a Death Eater and binding another in ropes.

The arrival of the Order made short work of the Death Eaters, who were soon all laying incapacitated in various parts of the chamber. The aurors quickly busied themselves identifying the now-prisoners and transferring them to the dungeons, while Kingsley ushered Harry, Neville and Ron from the department of mysteries, the Weasleys and Headmistress close behind them. Hurrying down the familiar corridor, Harry felt a sense of de ja vu as he glanced around him.

“How did you know we were in there?” He asked the Minister.

“An unspeakable heard the commotion and alerted me,” Kingsley answered. “It seems we have all been fooled.”

“By the Commander?” Neville said ahead of him. “Or Atticus or whatever his name was- “

“Atticus?” Kingsley came to an abrupt halt, causing them to almost crash into him. He rounded on them. “A Death Eater?”

“Yes,” Harry answered wearily. “Kingsley, who was he?”

Looking passed the young wizards, Kingsley shared a look of foreboding with Arthur and McGonagall.

……………………………………..

Sat in the office of the Minister for Magic, Harry, Ron and Neville shifted in the the hardbacked seats in front of Kingsley, who was sat behind a great oaken desk. They were exhausted, but there were still many questions in need of an answer.

“Atticus Lestrange,” Kingsley said finally.

“Lestrange?” Harry groaned. “There’s more of that insane family?”

“Rodolphus had an older sister, Claudette Lestrange,” said Arthur Weasley, sitting down beside his younger son, elbows resting stiffly on his knees. “She was quite a bit older than us in school…”

“You went to school with Lestrange?” Ron said in disbelief.

“Yes,” Arthur said, grimacing at some dark memory. “And Bellatrix, Lucius…”

“I taught the lot of them,” Headmistress McGonagall said grimly. “Rodolphus Lestrange was moulded into insanity by that sister of his, as was Bellatrix Black. Though I’m sure they would have founded their own way to the darkness eventually.”

“So, Atticus Lestrange, who was he to them?”

“He was Claudette’s son,” explained Kingsley. “She died in childbirth. It was Claudette who first led her brother to the Dark Lord’s following, and there has long been rumours as to who the father of her child was.”

“You can’t be serious,” Harry snorted in disgust. “You don’t mean he’s the son of Voldemort, surely.”

“That was the rumour,” Arthur said. “He was raised by Claudette and Rodolphus’s parents after her death, and after a time the boy seemed to just disappear. And soon, the world seemed to forget him, and Claudette.”

“Until the week before the capture of Barty Crouch Jr, that is,” added Kingsley. “This wizard, with such a great power, came out of nowhere. He was the only dark wizard to ever come close to killing Alastor Moody. The animal gouged out his eye, after it’s magical properties, and when he was finally captured, we found that he had put it in his own head. He didn’t know that the magic of it was something that Alastor himself had created. That’s how he ended up with his enchanted eye.”

Harry sat in shock, realising he hadn’t been far off when the Commander had reminded him of Mad-Eye.

“So why did he let himself get captured?” Ron asked.

“It seemed that the original eye did keep some of its qualities.” Arthur looked grave. “It allowed its owner to interpret the future. He must have seen the Dark Lord’s demise, and Barty Crouch Jr’s part in his resurrection. As it was, after Dumbledore discovered Crouch had been Impersonating Mad-Eye, and his old cell checked where the bones of his mother still lay, Lestrange was found in the same cell.”

“I would think that it was his influence that led Crouch to abduct Alastor all those years later,” McGonagall said gravely. Arthur and Kingsley nodded in agreement. “What did he want from you boys? What happened to Mr Malfoy?”

With the help of Neville and Ron, Harry recounted their two months in the icy cold, the mystery of the lake, and everything that Atticus had told them. The occupants in the room grew paler with every word.

“We can’t let him return,” Harry whispered finally.

“We will have aurors guard the veil room around the clock,” said Kingsley, looking ready for battle as though Voldemort was going to crash through the door that second. “If he takes one step into the land of the living, we will send him straight back to the depths of darkness where he belongs.”

……………………………………….

“Hermione?”

The young witch sat in silence on the window seat of Luna’s bedroom at 13 Grimmauld Place. Neville had dosed off in the deep armchair at Luna’s bedside, as the girl still slept encased in her crystal tomb. Ron and Ginny sat of the couch opposite, and Harry on a seat pulled up at Hermione’s side.

“Hermione, I’m sorry we couldn’t save him…” Harry dropped his head, rubbing the palms of his hands into his tired eyes.

Hermione looked at her best friend and put her hand on his shoulder gently before sitting back against the window and curling up her legs.

“It’s okay, Harry,” She said quietly. “There wasn’t any chance that you could have, was there? The well took what it wanted, and he’s gone.”

Ginny came to sit beside her, patting her knee comfortingly.

“He’s not gone, Hermione,” she said gently. “You’ll always have a part of him with you.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “He’ll always be here in spirit.”

“That’s not what Ginny meant,” Hermione sighed. “I’ve got something to tell you both- “

Hemione was interrupted by a commotion in the street outside. Looking out the window, they could see Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, squaring off with a wizard who’s face they couldn’t quite see.

“Ginny, stay here!” Harry yelled as he and Ron bolted from the room and thundered down the stairs. Hermione chased after them, ignoring Ginny’s protests that she needed to stay behind too.

As they burst out into the street they realised that the hulking figure was that of Rodolphus Lestrange.

“Blood traitors!” he screamed as he shot a curse at the Malfoys, who deflected it with some effort. Seeing Harry and his friends exit the invisible house, he shot spell after spell at them, his rage all consuming.

Hermione lunged forwards, wand outstretched, only to be shoved back roughly by Narcissa.

“I’ve lost my son, I’m not going to lose my grandchild too,” she yelled at her, still deflecting her brother-in-law’s advances.

There was a moment of pause as everyone registered the shock of her words, and Lestrange took that opportunity to throw all of his power at Hermione.

As his curse hit her, Hermione felt the necklace around her neck burning and pulsing, and as it absorbed the spell, it seemed to explode it outwards from her whole body, washing over every one of them and knocking them to them ground as the gold light hit them. As it hit Lestrange however, he seemed to fold into himself, contorting into disgusting shapes and his body finally melted, as if it were never there at all.

Winded, Harry and Ron got to their feet. Lucius Malfoy was still sat on the ground, looking up at her in horror as he realised his wife’s words.

“As I thought,” Narcissa said calmly. “Come inside, all of you. We have much to discuss.”

…………………………….

Harry and Ron sat dumbfounded in the exquisite dining room of the Malfoy house, shaking their heads at Mrs Malfoy’s offers of tea and sandwiches. Hermione sat awkwardly opposite Draco’s father, who still looked as though he may faint.

“You’re pregnant too?” Ron said weakly. “With Malfoy’s baby?”

Hermione nodded. She was all too aware that Lucius looked like he would vomit right across the table.

“I only found out the day we found you,” she said sadly.

“As soon as I heard of Draco’s passing, I realised my suspicions were true,” Narcissa said stonily as she sat by her husband.

“How could you have known?” Hermione asked in disbelief. “I’d only just found out myself.”

“I’m afraid, my _dear,_ ” the witch said in a haughty tone, “that I was aware of the inevitability of this outcome from the day I saw that necklace around your neck.”

Hermione touched her hand to her throat self-consciously.

“You said… whoever tried to unlock the chain on the folder, apart from Draco, would die, melt away…” She shuddered as she thought of Rodolphus Lestrange’s contorting figure. “You said the magic must have worn off.”

“I did say that,” Narcissa said grimly. “I suppose I wasn’t being honest. The only other person who would be able to remove the chain without causing their own demise is the woman who would bare Draco’s children.”

Hermione stared.

“But why did it deflect Lestrange’s curse like that?” Harry interjected, frowning. He seemed to have decided that the matter of Hermione’s pregnancy was a topic for later discussion. Ron still looked dazed.

“It was my intention when creating the spell that the chain would one day be given to Draco’s children, to protect them against any grievous threat.” Narcissa explained, smirking to herself as if she were quite proud of her magic. “Had he just slapped you, Miss Granger, well you would have felt the full force of that. But his curse was intended to result in your death, and so the death of your child. The necklace did its job and prevented that.”

Hermione was stunned. She could help but think of what would have happened had she not found the folder.

“But how did it know?” she asked. “It’s not like there’s a prophecy that put Draco and I together!”

“Destiny has always placed to where it needed you to be, Miss Granger. Just because yours isn’t sitting in an orb in the department of mysteries doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist.”

“I can’t believe that,” Hermione whispered, and fled from the room, vaguely hearing Harry and Ron excuse themselves as they followed her.

“Hermione, wait!” Ron shouted behind her, catching her as she opened the door to Draco’s bedroom.

He yelped in surprise as she threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably as she finally let out all of the grief that she had been feeling for the last two months. He led her to the bed and lay down with her, arms still around her shoulders. Harry sat on her other side and stroked her hair.

“I never had a choice either,” Harry said. “I know how you feel to find out, just like that, that all the pain and heartache and loss was always going to happen no matter how you tried to stop it.”

“So, was I meant to lose him too?” croaked Hermione into Ron’s side. “Was he meant to die?”

“I was thinking about that,” said Ron, bringing Hermione’s face up so he could look at her. “Atticus said that someone had to willingly sacrifice themselves to the well, even if they didn’t know it. Harry jumped in, but he wasn’t taken. Malfoy- Draco- he was almost pulled under the first time he went in. why not Harry?”

Hermione sat up between her two closest friends, trying to mull it over in her foggy mind.

“Someone has to die; their soul has to go beyond. And what Atticus was trying to do was unnatural, it goes against the foundations of magic,” she said, frowning. “Maybe the well was trying to fight its intended purpose. But that doesn’t change the fact that it did take Draco, he’s gone!”

“Maybe he isn’t,” Harry said slowly. “Voldemort _isn’t_ back. The trade didn’t work. And- “

He jumped up, excitement on his face.

“Luna!” he shouted. “I would bet anything that whatever happened to her, happened exactly when Draco hit the water! When he grabbed that crystal thing!”

“But _I_ made that,” Hermione said, confused. “I don’t know how, it just happened on day. It was a dragon that I gave it to Draco when you all left.”

“And that, Hermione, was something you were always meant to do.” Harry shook his head, hope filling his features. “Luna and Draco’s bond, the crystal dragon. It was all to prevent the dead being brought back. The well took Draco and not me because he had a tether to this world, and the trade couldn’t be made if his soul never crossed over.”

Hermione looked at his once before darting across the hall to Luna’s bedroom.

“Wha- “ said a startled Neville, having missed the fight on the street in his exhaustion. “What are you doing?”

Hermione pressed her hands against the crystal that had formed around Luna, and felt a sharp energy pulse through her. Though she didn’t get the vision this time, she recognised it as the same shock that she felt when she and Draco had held the Dragon at the same time. Harry and Ron stood behind her.

“So, what do we do?” she whispered. “How do we get them out?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry.


	16. Here and There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The familiarity of the voice made him feel instantly at ease, and his heart rate slow, though he wasn’t sure why. Turning around, he saw the blue-filtered shape of a young woman, her back to him as she sat cross-legged facing the undulating wall. Her hair, silver in the light, flowed messily over her shoulders reaching the ground around her. He imagined it was what the colour of his own hair might look like. He felt a painless burn on his wrist as he walked up to her, filled with anticipation.

Months passed and as Harry had predicted, there was no sign of Lord Voldemort’s re-emergence. The most elite aurors and the dedicated members of the Order of the Phoenix kept constant guard in the veil room, but come May, it appeared that the threat of the Dark Lord’s return was truly non-existent. Though that gave cause to rejoice, it truly appeared as though Draco had indeed perished in the failed sacrifice for his soul. Numerous unspeakables had studied the well, their efforts as fruitless as those that had studied the veil long before the Ministry of Magic had been built around it.

In her grief, Narcissa Malfoy had taken to accompanying Hermione almost wherever she went, including, to Hermione’s horror, to Diagon Alley to purchase some much-needed new clothes. Entering into her sixth month of pregnancy and a warm summer, she had finally conceded that she couldn’t keep living in Draco’s baggy sweatshirts and let Narcissa buy her all that she needed.

“You really don’t need to be doing this, Mrs Malfoy,” Hermione protested as she walked down the cobbled street, her shopping levitating close behind her. “In fact, I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“Oh rubbish,” the witch said. “Draco was my only son and I loved him dearly, but it was very irresponsible of him to have put you in this,” she waved her hand over Hermione’s torso, “ _situation._ Mark my words, girl, you will be looked after. And, so shall the child. It is the only grandchild Lucius and I will ever have, after all. Now, lunch. My only grandchild will be receiving good sustenance.”

Hermione gritted her teeth as she followed Narcissa into a tiny hole-in-the-wall type of door, and then gasped at the brilliance of the restaurant she had just entered. With its golden arches and glittering chandeliers, it reminded her of a palace ballroom. There were tables upon tables throughout, all stacked neatly with tiered sandwich and cake stand, all complete with a steaming tea pot ready to serve.

Hermione followed Mrs Malfoy to a table and was immediately poured a cup of tea, the teacup decorated with painted roses that danced around the edge.

“It’s beautiful in here,” Hermione said nervously. Feeling out of place in her crocheted dress, a gift from Mrs Weasley as she outgrew all of her jeans, she gratefully took a sandwich from the tray.

Narcissa looked around the room, raising her eyebrows as if she hadn’t considered it before.

“Yes I suppose it is,” she agreed, pulling her own teacup and saucer towards her. “I did want to discuss some things with you, Miss Granger- “

“Please call me Hermione,” Hermione interrupted. “As you say, I’m going to be the mother of your Grandchild. We may not feel like family now, and it may take years even, but you are _his_ family. I hope we can be more familiar.”

Narcissa looked surprised, her usual stoic expression faltering. In truth, Hermione was also thinking of her own mother, wishing greatly that she could be with her when she brought her own child into the world.

“Yes, I think that would be… agreeable,” Narcissa said, though she looked uncomfortable, as if ‘familiar’ was a foreign concept.

“What did you want to discuss, Narcissa?” Hermione said shyly.

“The matter of Malfoy Manor,” she said, not noticing Hermione blanch at the mention of the foreboding house. “It has, of course, been possessed by the Ministry since the Dark Lords downfall, but in light of your circumstances, I believe they would relinquish the ownership of it to you, and your child.”

Hermione was stunned. It certainly wasn’t a possibility she had considered, or even wanted to. She could only stare at the older witch as she continued speaking.

“All assets of the family Malfoy are now to be inherited by the child. Lucius have no wish to claim the Manor, but we would like to see it restored to the Malfoy line.”

“You can’t mean for _me_ to live there?” Hermione half whispered. “To raise my child there? All due respect, Narcissa, but I was tortured on the floor of your dining room. Children, my own friends, were abused in that house! How could you expect me to say yes?”

Narcissa lowered her eyes, unable to hide the shame on her face.

“No one has more regret for what happened inside the walls of our home than my husband and I. Before the Dark Lord took over our house, anyone who stepped inside was protected from the monstrosities being carried out by other Death Eaters. Pansy, for example. Blaise and Theodore too. They were like siblings to Draco. Lucius even loved them as his own children. It is only a house, Hermione. It’s only as dark as those who occupy it.”

Hermione sighed, thinking of her child. Would they be resentful if they learned that she had kept them from their true inheritance?

“Okay,” she said finally, catching the fleeting glimpse of gratitude in Narcissa’s eyes. “But the dungeons have to go.”

She got up to leave the table, Narcissa following suit and quickly levitating their shopping.

Hermione had a sudden thought, whipping round to face the woman.

“And,” she said, “You need to go to Harry’s house and remove all of those horrible paintings!”

“That would be my pleasure.”

…………………………………………..

Hermione waited anxiously in the warm living room of 12 Grimmauld Place with Ron and Arthur Weasley. It was cosier now, brighter. As promised, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black had worked tirelessly to remove the remainder of the dark magic in her cousin’s old house, seeming to thoroughly enjoy incinerating the screaming portrait of her aunt. Without hesitation, she had added some finishing touches and the house now closer resembled her own house across the street, though muted down slightly from the traditional Malfoy grandeur. The rooms were more spacious, the kitchen gleaning and bright instead of dank and grey.

A loud groan sounded from the room above them and Ron started pacing.

“Does it usually go on for this long?” he asked them, white in the face.

“Don’t ask me,” Hermione shot back, full of nerves for her own impending delivery.

“Ah, don’t fret,” Mr Weasley smiled at them, patting Hermione’s had reassuringly. “Molly did it seven times! All at home in the burrow. The first, Bill, he took the longest. Ginny sounds like she’s coming to the end of it now.”

With that, they heard a deep guttural roar, a primal noise that caused Ron the drop the coffee mug he had been carrying. They all stared at the ceiling and listened to the silence above them. A few seconds later, a baby let out a shrill cry, and laughter erupted both upstairs and in the living room. Smiling through her tears, Hermione watched Arthur and Ron share a hug, both their eyes glistening with elation. They turned to the door as Harry thundered down the stairs and through the door with joy on his face, his cheeks wet.

“It’s a boy,” he managed through his laughter as Ron embraced him, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes. “Ginny is asking for you all.”

Hermione felt apprehensive as she climbed the steps to the master bedroom, all too aware of Ron close behind her, as if preparing to catch her if she fell. Following Harry into the room, she let out a breath at the sight of Ginny, wrapped in her knitted patchwork dressing gown, exhausted yet ethereal in all her glory. And there, held safely against Ginny’s chest, was the tiny new human. Mrs Weasley sat at her daughters’ side, cooing as she softly stroked the baby’s shock of red hair. Mr Weasley leant in to kiss his daughter on the forehead before sitting down in a comfy armchair. After congratulating his sister, Ron cocked his head.

“Is he meant to still be purple?” he asked, confused at the laughter from his parents and sister.

“He’s perfect, love,” Mrs Weasley said warmly.

“Hermione?” Ginny called out softly. “Would you like to see him?”

Hermione nodded, stepping forward. Sitting on the bed next to her friend, she leaned over as far as her own large stomach would allow, and looked at the fresh little babe, nuzzling into his mother’s breast. She felt a sharp kick from her own child and laughed, placing a hand on Ginny’s leg.

“I think they’re going to be the best of friends,” she smiled, patting her own belly affectionately, feeling truly excited for the first time.

……………………………………

True to her word, Hermione scheduled a visit with the Minister for Magic to discuss the ownership of Malfoy Manor. To her surprise, he had taken little persuasion to relinquish the great house to her possession. When she had relayed the news to Draco’s parents, they had reacted in a most un-Malfoy-like way, jumping up and embracing each other, shedding tears freely.

Now, at the entrance to the great house, Hermione considered whether she had made the right decision. Lucius and Narcissa had strode through the gate ahead of her, their dismay plain to see as they took in the neglected and burnt gardens and the blown-in front door. Beside her stood Ron and his father, waiting for her to lead them inside. Exhaling, she entered the house.

“There’s a lot of work to be done here,” Mr Weasley said, attempting a cheerful tone as he regarded the burnt rug in the entrance hallway.

“Mmm,” she mumbled in reply. She felt Ron come up beside her.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said soothingly. “I doubt Draco would expect you to, or even want you to.”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, looking around her. “Maybe he would have wanted to make something of this place, see his children or grandchildren running around. A different time. Maybe it’s all I can do to see that through.”

“Okay,” Ron said, putting an arm around her and squeezing her shoulder lightly.

“Arthur,” came a curt voice from some forbidding room ahead of them, as Lucius Malfoy stepped back into the hall.

“Yes, Lucius?” The distaste in Lucius’ voice was mirrored in Arthur’s, and Hermione felt herself grow nervous as she thought of the long animosity between them. The look on both wizards’ faces showed they were trying very, very hard to be civil.

“Should we, ah, get to work?”

“Right then.”

Mr Weasley turned on his heel and marched out of the once grand doorway and waited on the stone steps. Lucius, clearly wanting nothing less than to join the man outside, stalked passed Hermione and Ron.

Watching them the two men side by side, wands raised in unison, was a strange sight for them both.

“What are they- “

Hermione was cut off as she felt the air shift around her. She and Ron watched, mouths agape, as the soot lifted from the floor and disappeared, the charred bannister leading to the second floor transforming to its former glory. She hurried outside and stared up at the face of the manor, watching as chunks of centuries old stone was levitated from the ground and sunk back into its original place in the wall. The only things that didn’t seem to change were the diamond paned windows that were glittering in the sun, having remained untouched by the destruction of the house.

Turning around to take in the overgrown wilderness of a garden, Hermione raised her own wand, ignoring Lucius’s protests. It was her house now after all.

She visualised the exquisite English garden, from a time before the darkness had overtaken the estate, before she had even seen it herself. She imagined it had looked like it had been taken straight from a romantic 18th century muggle novel. Hedges and trees grew before her eyes, pruning themselves into picturesque shapes, centred around an ornate pavilion. Vines that had long since died filled with life, climbing thickly over its clear roof as radiant yellow jasmine flowers bloomed. As a finishing touch, she transformed the last of the marble rubble into a breathtaking fountain with a Venus statue in the centre.

When she had finished, Hermione stood with her arms folded over her growing bump, admiring her work, barely noticing the Weasley men standing beside her until Arthur whistled softly.

“Very well done, Hermione,” he said, smiling warmly at her. “Don’t you think, Lucius?” he added smugly.

“Yes, yes, very good,” Lucius agreed, nodding begrudgingly. “I should see to Narcissa.”

Hermione watched him enter the restored building uneasily. It must be hard, she thought, not feeling at home in a place he had spent his whole life, and raised his son in. But then again, hat kind of home had it truly been. Sighing, she motioned for Ron and his father to join follow her inside.

“Well, this is definitely different to the last time we were here,” Ron said, looking around nervously as though a Death Eater might be lurking around the corner.

The hall was spotless now, the thick woollen carpet soft and plush under Hermione’s feet. She had the urge to remove her shoes and sock and sink her toes into it. She ran her fingers along the gleaming silver embellishments on the walls, winding snake-like around the gold frames no longer singed, that had once been occupied by the Malfoy ancestors. Hermione wondered where they had gone, but was more than relieved at their absence.

“Staying for dinner, Arthur?”

Hermione looked up to see that Lucius had once again sneaked up on her, looking as if nothing would give him more displeasure, and she felt Arthur bristle by her side before looking at her uncertainly.

“Don’t worry Mr Weasley, you go home and see that grandson of yours,” Hermione said, putting her hand on his arm. “Thank you so much for helping us today. I’m sure Mr Malfoy was most grateful too.”

She looked straight into Lucius’s eyes as she spoke, and saw them narrow slightly.

“Yes, very grateful you could join us.” Lucius looked as though he might choke on his tongue.

Arthur took Hermione by the shoulders and turned her to face him, Ron standing close beside her.

“You don’t need to feel as though you have to stay here with these _people,”_ he said quietly. “You will always have a home at the Burrow.”

“I know, Mr Weasley,” Hermione smiled. “You and Molly have always been like second parents to me, I know I can always rely on you. But this is something I think I really need to do. Get to know this place, the Malfoys. For my child.” She placed a hand on her stomach sadly. “For Draco.”

Arthur nodded understandingly, squeezing her arm gently before lowering his own.

“I’ll stay with you, then,” Ron said, looking as if he would valiantly guard her from any threat.

“No, Ron.” Hermione raised a hand to softly touch his forlorn face, his eyes burning from the rejection and desire to keep her safe. “I’m pretty unsure about my future here, but one thing I’m certain of is that I’ll be perfectly safe. And anyway, there’s a lot of things I need to go through with Draco’s parents this evening and I absolutely don’t want to put you through that!”

Ron chuckled, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“I couldn’t think of anything worse,” he agreed, though clearly not wanting to leave her side.

“It’ll be fine,” Hermione reassured the Weasley men. “I’ll floo a letter to Grimmauld place in the morning. You tell that sister of yours i want to know the name of baby Potter!”

With a final hug goodbye, Hermione watched as Ron and his father walked away from Malfoy Manor, exiting the grounds through the imposing wrought iron gates before disapparating from view.

Hermione stood for several minutes staring at the spot where they had disappeared, fighting the urge to run after them. Letting out a shaky breath, she turned back into the house and into her new life.

…………………………………………….

How long had he been sat here? Had he been asleep? Draco looked about him, registering the blue hue that tinged every part of the dome that seemed to surround him. The light flickered on the ground as if he was staring into a serene body of water, disturbed only slightly by his presence. Raising a hand unsteadily, he watched as the shadows, scattering shades of turquoise and teal, danced on his skin. Looking to his side, he could just make out the edge of his watery prison. The translucent wall rippled under his fingers, though he was surprised to find it was dry to touch. In fact, there was no sensation of feeling at all.

Draco turned and noticed a small entryway in the dome. Ducking carefully through it, all too aware of the absence of his wand, he was dismayed to find himself in a space identical to the one before. He let out a strangled groan, frustrated tears forming in his eyes. Looking behind him, he saw that the entryway had gone. He was alone, just himself and the deafening silence.

“I wouldn’t say you’re all alone,” came a sing-song voice behind him.

The familiarity of the voice made Draco feel instantly at ease, and his heart rate slow, though he wasn’t sure why. Turning around, he saw the blue-filtered shape of a young woman, her back to him as she sat cross-legged facing the undulating wall. Her hair, silver in the light, flowed messily over her shoulders reaching the ground around her. He imagined it was what the colour of his own hair might look like. He felt a painless burn on his wrist as he walked up to her, filled with anticipation.

Draco closed his eyes in anticipation before he reached her, crouching to the ground and letting out a slow, calming breath. Finally, he opened them.

“Luna,” he exhaled, joy and comfort filling him as his memories of her flooded his mind.

His joy was short lived. He reached forward to touch her face, his hand slipping through as if she were a ghost.

“Luna,” he repeated, this time in a whisper. “Are you…”

“Dead?” Luna smiled at Draco, and he saw that the more he concentrated closely on her features, the more crystalline she appeared to be, luminous and glassy. “Not dead, no.”

“But you’re not here,” Draco realised sadly. He suddenly had a recollection of falling, grappling with the empty air. He shuddered at the memory. At least he couldn’t remember the pain. “Am _I_ dead?”

“No,” Luna said simply. “But I don’t know that anyone else realises that.”

Draco noticed that she was petting something in her lap. Looking closer, he realised that it was a large hare, laying lazily over her knees as she rubbed its ears. It was throwing off the same silver light as Luna’s long blonde locks. It seemed almost fitting, that it should be there, and for some reason that Draco couldn’t quite pick, it gave him a sense of comfort as he stared at it.

“How did I get here?” he asked her, looking around the strange chamber.

“You fell,” Luna replied, and Draco felt a flash of fear rush through him that he wasn’t sure was his.

“I remember,” he said, grimacing. “But here… How did I get to be here? Is this the centre of the lake?”

“The lake was never a lake.” Luna’s voice was etched in a sombre tone, like the revelation was painful for her to bare. It turned urgent as she continued, rousing the hare which jumped around her shoulders. “He tricked you, and now you have to stay here until she calls you back, or there will be no world for her to call you back to.”

“Who tricked me? She, who?” Draco felt a pain in his head and tried to let out an even breath. “I don’t understand. Is it Hermione? Is she meant to find me?”

“No,” Luna said again, and Draco felt in that moment as she did. She couldn’t tell him.

“Can you tell me where I am?” he urged her gently. “Where you are?”

“I am with you,” she answered. “And you, you are here.”

He recalled what she had said to him all that time ago when she was a prisoner in the Manor and she had forged their bond. _‘We will survive. And we will always be together. If not in body, then in spirit. I’ll always be there when you need me.’_ He realised wherever her body was, her consciousness was not.

“Where is here, Luna?”

“It is just here, and there.”

Luna stood then, the hare dancing around her. She seemed to float instead of walk, and Draco could do nothing but watch her.

“Here, and there,” she repeated dreamily. “And nowhere.”

She turned and looked at him, love and grief and loss burning in the clear pools of her eyes. He noticed ever so slight changes in her features. She was taller, an almost unnoticeable about, and there were faint lines at the edges of her eyes.

“How long have we been in this place?” Draco felt her answer in his mind before she even spoke it, and she smiled sadly at him.

“A very long time.”’

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave some love in the reviews and read on! 
> 
> Sophia x


End file.
